Triumph of the Trophy
Triumph OF THE Trophy
Anatomy of a barn-find or What kind of fool am I?
he trail of tears that leads to my garage is easy to see because they pool up so nicely on top of the trail of oil that leads there also. Sometimes they are tears of sorrow (“I have set that magneto three times...") or ones of joy, after returning from a trouble-free and wonderful 200-mile ride. After timing the magneto three times, of course. Tears of both kinds have flowed freely with this very original 1958 Triumph Trophy, basically an 11 -year-older version of our man Drake’s TR6.
How it survived and came to make me cry is a classic story of two friends who bought identical Trophys way back in ’58. One bike got totaled, the other mothballed. The surviving machine went back and forth between the two over the years (“If you ever sell it, you have to sell it back to me.”) but reputedly busted the ankle of both owners by kicking back, and so was parked until recently unearthed and put in my hands.
The story was odd because Triumphs are not hard-starting bikes. This one threw my shoe across the yard the first time I tried to kick it. Something big was clearly wrong. The Voyage of Discovery started when I took off the valve inspection caps and found a broken exhaust pushrod.
The valves all had seized in their guides, some more so than others, a rocker arm was buggered and when I pulled the head I found high-crown Mondial 11:1 slipper pistons and a bore that looked like it had been honed with a bag of rocks. Clearance was a rather spacious 11 thou, when the most you’d want is less than half that. At least it didn’t seize, but that was mostly because it couldn’t.
One hundred hours and $2000 later, that’s all fixed now, the magneto has indeed been timed, the primary drive is rebuilt, the generator generates like the veritable 60-watt power-station that it is and I finally found a perfectly used stock seat to replace the humped BSA job on the bike when I got it.
Many tears and many beers later, the Trophy looks virtually no different than when I got it (the bike has earned its patina after nearly 50 years on and off the road) but it runs beautifully. It is also a true survivor and time capsule, especially considering how many of these bikes were stripped of everything and made into full-on dirtbikes.
It is easy to see why Triumphs were so popular. They are easy to start, very torquey and lithe-feeling, as well as being comfortable to sit on. They sound great, too. After about 1000 miles, the top-end has “bedded-in” nicely, and I’m getting about 55 mpg from this single-carb dualsport bike. Unfortunately, I’m not quite sure about mpg, because the speedo needs to be fixed, but I really should save up and, I dunno, make my house payment or something.
My Triumph “restoration” wasn’t as much of a spiritual journey as Drake’s, nor was it as protracted or as in depth, but after I found my sole across the yard that first day, I haven’t lost it since.
Mark Hoyer
