Posts Tagged ‘Triumph’

The Art of Andy Jenkins...

Monday, August 8th, 2011

Andy Jenkins draws bikes and cars nicely. But the other four wheeled vehicles he is inter­ested in are skate­boards. He was, after all the Art Director and founder member of Girl Skateboards.

Andy also digs the print medium, his self-​​published zine Bend having been a lead player in the cult of the under­ground print publication.

We caught up with Andy recently when these lovely little illus­tra­tions went on sale for a snip.

Skate versus Bikes/​Cars: what’s the relationship?
Here in Los Angeles, it’s simple. If you skate, you drive/​ride. There’s no other way to get around unless you’re bumming rides.

What do you ride/​drive?
I drive a hybrid… the powers that be here have all the nice cars. I used to commute on a Triumph Thruxton for a few years until I sold it to a coworker.

LA or San Francisco?
San Pedro! Get on the 110 freeway and head south from LA.

Dirtbike or Roadbike?
I love motocross and raced it for a few years. So I have an inclin­ation towards dirt. BUT, I loved my Thruxton as well.

Print or Digi?
Both. Print if it’s good, i.e. well designed and written. I tend to be a little more lenient about design if it’s online.

Triumph Spitfire re-imagined

Monday, June 20th, 2011

Sometimes it’s good to have your precon­cep­tions challenged. I was brought up and into car culture through the enter­taining and sometimes scurrilous Custom Car magazine of the 1970s (below).

Anyone that remembers that wickedly funny ‘zine will remember that as well as marrying cool modded motors with half-​​naked ladies Custom Car’s editorial was shot through with unadorned hatred of the Triumph Spitfire.

Custom Car Magazine, August 1974

For some reason, the Spitfire seemed to represent to the editorial staff all that preten­tious, gutless and twee about motoring in the 1970s.

And being an impres­sionable pre-​​teen in those days heady with the reek of Brut 33 and Long Life and John Player Specials, I carried this unjust hatred of the Spitfire with me deep into adulthood.

But recently we stumbled across a little set of pictures of a Spitfrire on the excellent Asphalt Heritage blog, and we’re looking at the Spitfire afresh.

We’re digging the low-​​slung lines. We’re admiring the purposeful stance and the peaky rear end. We’re thinking that the Spitfire must have been a fun and accessible way into motoring with a bit of passion.

American Anglofailure

Thursday, December 16th, 2010

This might come as a shock, but we Brits do not have a ‘special relationship’ with the United States. Anyone involved in motor­cycling during the Fifties and Sixties, however, might have thought otherwise. Sure, British bikes flooded into North America as fast as the factories could ship them – but his was not the virile thrusting of manufac­turing in its potent prime, it was the final spasms of the British motor­cycle industry’s dying manhood.

All-​​American marketing knowhow played to the exotic in the heart of the Brit Empire

By the mid-​​Fifties, with Indian motor­cycles recently dead and buried, Americans had one viable choice of home-​​built bike – the Harley-​​Davidson, which even in its sportier forms was, frankly, a fat plodder. The post-​​war US fashion for bobbing motor­cycles (which entails ripping off tinware and bracketry and chopping short the heavy mudguards) helped to some degree. Bobbing was after all the birth of the custom scene as we know it. But sporting riders after light, quick, fine-​​handling machinery looked to Britain.

Well actually, they didn’t. Whether they knew it or not, they were looking to the major US importers such as TriCor, Johnson Motors and Berliner. Ran by switched-​​on blokes with bikes in their blood, these firms knew what the vast American market wanted and used their consid­erable leverage to squeeze changes and new models from England’s staid factories.

High-​​piped off-​​road exotica such as the Triumph TR6C and T120TT, Norton’s steroid-​​guzzling P11 or BSA’s Spitfire and Catalina scram­blers poured across the Atlantic along with lithe and hopped-​​up road burners.

In 1965 alone, TriCor and Johnson Motors brought around 15,000 Triumphs into the States and the Meriden factory was working full-​​tilt to turn out about 700 bikes a week, almost 600 of which were exported, mostly to North America.

So, the Sixties progressed and America’s racers took British iron to huge success in desert races, dirt track, scrambles and road racing, while blissed-​​out loafer-​​shod glitterati cruised the boulevards of New York, LA and San Francisco on Bonnevilles, Lightnings and Commandos.

Meanwhile, back home in Brum, sallow-​​faced youths raised on boiled cabbage and drizzle were hunched over the elusive bike porn of US sales brochures, wondering why they were saddled with more conser­vative UK models that lacked the vital glint of California sunshine.

And why were they? Because the British industry was being run with the panache of a drunken monkey riding a neurotic ostrich.

Yes, there were great devel­opment engineers, not least Doug Hele (above) and Bert Hopwood who worked on some of the best Norton and Triumph/​BSA bikes of the late sixties —  but management had become bloated with so-​​called experts from outside the industry, with heads full of bile-​​inducing managerial nonsense.

On the other side of the boardroom table sat the Old Guard, who still believed that British was best and that those funny Japanese could jolly well have the small bike market, because they simply couldn’t build big bikes. Well, small capacity they may have been, but the States were importing ten times more Japanese bikes than British, laying down a solid customer base and dealer network. To say that the success of Honda’s advanced, slick and desirable CB750 Four of 1968 came as a surprise would be laughable if it weren’t so pathet­ically tragic.

Americans by now thought of Triumph, BSA and Norton as their own so casual xenophobia held back the inevitable for a certain amount of time. But it couldn’t last. As pressure from the compet­ition grew quality control slipped. Loyal US importers were forced to spend increasing amounts of time correcting faults on British bikes fresh from the shipping crates just to make them fit for sale. Shameful.

The Brits simply hadn’t seen it coming. To say they were complacent is like saying the Ku Klux Klan is mildly provoc­ative. Some would call it criminally negligent to sit on laurels first won in the 1930s.

At its height of British dominance of the Motorcycle industry more than 12,000 people worked at BSA’s main Small Heath factory in Birmingham. It covered 250 acres and housed the biggest motor­cycle manufac­turer in the world. It takes talent to wreck a business like that.

But by 1973 it was all over, the factory levelled soon after. Triumph meanwhile struggled on at Meriden, but a debil­it­ating sickness of misman­agement, ownership changes and union unrest finally killed it in 1983. We should be thankful that the man who bought the Triumph name and manufac­turing rights, John Bloor, has gone on to create a sound company that turns out world-​​class bikes from a state-​​of-​​the-​​art factory. And this is a man who is very switched on to the American market.

Wheels on Reels

Wednesday, August 11th, 2010

Cars started rolling just about the same time that movie cameras did. More than a century on, the movies are still in love with smell of burnt rubber. Every bit as much as their human occupants, bikes and cars are the stars of some of the greatest films ever made.

Wheel and reels collided with giant cultural impact in the ‘50s – Marlon Brando and James Dean both owe a portion of their iconic immor­tality to a bike and a car. Based on the infamous Hollister motorcycle-​​rally riot in 1947, The Wild One put a leather-​​clad Brando on a Triumph Thunderbird 6T as the leader of the Black Rebels Motorcycle Club – and a new symbol of masculine cool was born.YouTube Preview Image Just two years later in 1955, James Dean captures the raging spirit of youth playing a deadly game of chicken in a 1946 Ford Super De Luxe in Rebel Without A Cause.YouTube Preview Image The scene instantly grew in power when Dean died in a car crash just before the film was released.

But to talk about cars and bikes in the movies is really to talk about one man. Appearing in rear-​​view mirror of a sinister-​​black Dodge Charger, Steve McQueen wrapped his hands round the wheel a Ford Mustang Fastback and tore up the streets of San Francisco in ‘60s cop thriller Bullitt.YouTube Preview Image Over nine minutes of tyre-​​screeching, wheel-​​locking, shock-​​clattering action, man and machine glinted with cool. McQueen was just getting started. He’d famously swap four wheels for two in The Great Escape, pulling off one of the greatest motor­cycle scenes of all time as he pelted away from the Nazis through open countryside on a TT Special 650 Triumph.YouTube Preview Image Along with the barb-​​wire-​​fence jump (pulled off by stuntman Bud Ekins), it’s been inspiring people to climb on motor­bikes ever since.

McQueen loved wheels so much he even starred in Le Mans, a movie with that swapped script and story for stunning cars and incredible driving sequences.YouTube Preview Image After watching McQueen rag a Porsche 911S down some deserted French lanes, we hit the track to look in awe at the speeding beauty of the Porsche 917 and the Ferrari 512S.

Only one other big-​​screen hero owes cars as much as McQueen: Her Majesty’s finest, Commander James Bond. Pimped out with ejector seat, machine guns and tyre-​​shredder, the Aston Martin DB5 became an essential 007 iconic in Goldfinger.YouTube Preview Image You had to feel sorry for 007 when, in For Your Eyes Only, his Lotus Esprit Turbo was blown up and he was forced to battle gun-​​toting killers in a Citroën 2CV.YouTube Preview Image

No question, the ‘60s were a golden age for cars and bikes in Hollywood and Britain. Despite cruelly crushing a Lamborghini Muira with an earth-​​mover in the opening scene, The Italian Job made Mini Coopers an unmis­takable part of the first version of Cool Britannia. Then runaway bride Marianne Faithful slipped naked into a leather jumpsuit for Girl On A Motorcycle, a psyche­delic cult classic about, well, you know.YouTube Preview Image

But while Brando’s The Wild One got the motor running, the chopper really became a big-​​screen icon when Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper made Easy Rider. Powered by a Steppenwolf soundtrack the film became a counter-​​culture classic that changed Hollywood and made the choppers legendary. Ironically, the bikes were former police bikes – one was burned on film, the others were stolen.YouTube Preview Image

It sparked a cavalcade of shonky biker flicks and a few inter­esting ones, including Electra Glide In Blue, in which hippie cop Robert Blake rides a Harley Electra Glide.YouTube Preview ImageThe Harleys didn’t have it all their own way: Gregory Peck famously romanced Audrey Hepburn on a Vespa in Roman Holiday, the same scooter that would later represent youth, cool and freedom in Brit coming-​​of-​​age drama Quadrophenia.YouTube Preview Image YouTube Preview Image

Back on four wheels, the ‘70s taste for cool running continues with Two-​​Lane Blacktop, which saw musicians James Taylor and Dennis Wilson ( ‘55 Chevy) stirring the box alongside Warren Oates (‘70 Pontiac GTO) in motors that empower them to escape from The Man.YouTube Preview Image

Weirdly, though, it was love bug not a speed machine that captured the hearts of ‘70s cinema-​​goers. Disney’s Herbie franchise saw a little white VW Beetle become one of the popular characters it’s ever created.YouTube Preview Image Cars often had more person­ality than the stars. Anyone who’d seen the demon­ically possessed 1958 Plymouth Fury in John Carpenter’s cult thriller Christine knew this already.YouTube Preview Image

As a new gener­ation of teenage kicks began in the ‘80s, motors continued to be a yardstick of cool. Ferris Bueller did it all for his dad’s replica 1961 Ferrari 250 GT Spider California (“It is his love, it is his passion… it is his fault he didn’t lock the garage”). Back To The Future turned the gull-​​winged 1981 DeLorean DMC-​​12 into a time-​​travelling mean machine.YouTube Preview Image And even sci-​​fi master­pieces Akira and TRON are remembered best for their neon, streaking future-​​bikes.YouTube Preview Image YouTube Preview Image

As if to strap into empty driver’s seat left by McQueen, Tom Cruise treated a Kawasaki GPz900R like an F-​​14 with wheels in 1986’a Top Gun.YouTube Preview Image Cruise hadn’t ridden a motorbike before, but he learned in the parking lot of a California bike shop and promptly found himself in motorhead heaven. You’ll see him on a bike in everything from Mission: Impossible II to Knight & Day.YouTube Preview Image His record-​​smashing, wheel-​​tilting appearance on Top Gear proved that NASCAR actioner Days Of Thunder wasn’t all acting.YouTube Preview Image

Another famous Hollywood biker is Governator Arnold Schwarzenegger, who chased Sarah Connor on a Honda 750 in Terminator, before upgrading to a Harley Davidson Fatboy in the sequel and uttering the immortal line: “I need your clothes, boots and your motor­cycle.”YouTube Preview ImageThe Big Oak remains an avid motor­cycle enthu­siast to this day, while the Terminators in Terminator Salvation actually became motor­bikes themselves.

Over the past few years of movies, bikes have been at the heart of some of cinema’s most inspiring true stories, including The Motorcycle Diaries (Che Guevara travels across South America on a a 500cc single cylinder Norton Motorcycle named La Poderosa, ‘The Mighty One’) and The World’s Fastest Indian (Anthony Hopkins stars as Kiwi speed-​​bike racer Burt Munro, who set an under-​​1000cc world record on a modified an Indian-​​brand motorcycle).YouTube Preview Image

The Fast And The Furious reignited a taste for modified cars and street racing, spawned three sequels (and counting), but when it comes to real car-​​nage – even after the souped-​​up battle rigs in Mad Max Road Warrior or Jason Statham’s Death Race remake – you still can’t beat Gone in 60 Seconds.YouTube Preview Image YouTube Preview Image YouTube Preview Image Not the Nic Cage remake, the ‘70s original. Real cars, real stunts, really bad acting. It ends with a 34-​​minute car chase that’s one of the most spectacular in film history. Writer/​director/​producer/​star H B Halicki wrecked 93 cars in this 96-​​minute film. That’s 0.97 cars per minute. It’s been pointed out that Rambo only kills 0.72 people per minute in First Blood Part II. Talk about hitting the road.YouTube Preview Image

Triumph Italia

Wednesday, August 4th, 2010

Check out the pulch­ritudinous slice of Anglo Italian coöper­ation that is the Triumph Italia. As you will read via MR Wiki, this car was actually (sort of) the TR3. Only 329 of this piece of beautiful automotive sculpture were built before, in 1961, Leyland bought out Triumph and the project was shelved forever.

It was penned by the great Michelotti and built by legendary coach builder Vignale in Torino. If only someone had had the vision to carry on with the Italia. We never really like the TR4 that replaced it…

Out of all of Michelotti’s Italianate creations that were blessed with English blood, the Italia is our Fave.

Grease is the Word

Thursday, June 17th, 2010

1964: Boyhood dreams of Grease, rock & denim.

In my dreams I was a British Biker. I was a mod-​​baiting, leather wearing fetishist of all things American. That was the look anyway. But it was only English Iron that would do for my ride. Clip on bars. Pegs way back. Buffed steel tank. In my mind I nicked a featherbed frame from a greaser mate and bolted the Bonneville engine and I was away. Brilliant. The new roads of boom time Britain had me burning from caff-​​to-​​caff, round the gyratory and back again. Ton up to the bass string notes of Eddie Cochrane. That was the life in Levis and leather. Transatlantic exchange meant everything to me. In my imagin­ation at least.

1975: Fizzy — first flights of Freedom

Then I came to consciousness. Reality check. Kenny Roberts was the hero. Forget Sheene. You could squeeze so much power and speed and noise out of the Yamaha FSIE’s 50 ccs. So it seemed to me anyway. I had a Roberts replica complete with wasp-​​like yellow and black paintjob. The boom time was over and there were power cuts and the three-​​day working week. Our estate was seething and humming and buzzing with the sound of my mates and their fizzies and the smell of two stroke and the heavy riffs of Metal. The dole money was enough to keep her going. They’re cool again now — icons of sustain­ab­ility, appar­ently. For us, they were icons of the future.


image: thanks to Shane@ FS1E.net

1985: RDLC Powerbands and driving bans
The miner’s strike was over before it started. And we had scored our first licence. We never cared about politics, anyway. We were more inter­ested in powerbands. And Elsie had a serious powerband. She kicked in hard and it was all you did to keep her lit and in the straight line. Elsie was all about first shunts, broken bones and first loves. If you tried to ride her like a fizzy you were doomed. And we were doomed alright. There was a certain feeling to the Elsie on the roads above the moors, and we were convinced it was all about the liquid.

1990s Kawasaki Ninja 600: knee dragging in middle age
By the mid nineties, you’d fallen out of love and back into lust with two wheels. The Ninja was the thing that did it. Elsie had proven too hard to live with, too riotous to handle. You had to get a job and get into four wheels. You first saw them on the road in Southern France. Well-​​off French kids in tooth­paste leather scraping their knees in the border­lands up in the Pyrenees. All of a sudden everyone was riding sports bikes and I was a flash of green, with that slightly camp pink type on the rear. I left the Yam kink way behind. And the speed. It was the first time I’d travelled signi­fic­antly over the Ton, a guilty secret which had inspired us all in the first place, but when you did it on the M1 you felt the breath of the grim reaper too keenly down the back of your neck.



2010: Back to the Future
I am a British biker. I am a Prius-​​baiting, Belstaff wearing, fetishist of all things British. Now it’s the clothing as well as the bike. I’ve paid Triumph and they’ve given me a recre­ation of the bike I dreamt of and I am away. The roads may be clogged, but I can bypass all that on the weekend. I get up early on a summer Sunday and I am back to those dreams of my youth. But now they are real. I avoid the Ace Café and all that retro nonsense. There’s nothing retro and ‘fashion’ about English-​​bred speed. All I need to do is twist my grip and I leave the last forty years behind. And it feels good.

Image: Deus Ex Machina

Words: Barney Morgan

Something for the Weekend

Friday, April 23rd, 2010