I never told you about the trip up to the Triumph factory at Hickley, did I. It was arranged by Fowlers (otherwise known as Fowlups in and around Bristol) and led by their Triumph sales person (henceforth TSP). After much fannying around, we set off towards the Fosse Way with a mixed bag of bikes, some Triumph and some not. I knew things were going to get interesting when TSP set off at 80-90 along the A roads. As you probably have experienced when out in a group, each person further back in the group has to travel a little faster than the person in front to keep up (because of the effect of missed overtakes and closing gaps). Consequently, we'd lost three people after 30 miles or so and one of those had travelled quite a way across country to make this trip.
From there, I winced at a series of blind overtakes on bends and other reckless moves, as people desperately tried to stay with the pace and avoid being dropped. It was wet for most of the ride up, easing off as we got near the factory and our lunch stop.
The damp roads almost debootitated (I'm guessing that's the correct term for losing a leg based on the premise that de-cap-itated is losing your head). After some thoughless close riding and some close overtaking manoeuvres, Mr.Rocket III rider nearly managed to highside his bike while overtaking on a straight stretch of road. Picture a wide bike with an equally wide rider, legs akimbo, flailing in the air like a native welcome to the approaching artic.
The factory tour itself was really interesting. You're given Formula One style radio headphones and the tour guide takes you right from the component parts, to the fully assembled bike. At various points he points to a worker and says 'Tarquin here is scanning the bar code for the bike and the tools now set themselves to the correct torque for tightening the felangethon gasket' or words to that effect. The thing that I found interesting was that each bike is different. They don't build rows and rows of one type; one bike may be a Daytona bound for France, the next may be a Sprint for Australia. Anyway, go if you have the chance.
From there, I winced at a series of blind overtakes on bends and other reckless moves, as people desperately tried to stay with the pace and avoid being dropped. It was wet for most of the ride up, easing off as we got near the factory and our lunch stop.
The damp roads almost debootitated (I'm guessing that's the correct term for losing a leg based on the premise that de-cap-itated is losing your head). After some thoughless close riding and some close overtaking manoeuvres, Mr.Rocket III rider nearly managed to highside his bike while overtaking on a straight stretch of road. Picture a wide bike with an equally wide rider, legs akimbo, flailing in the air like a native welcome to the approaching artic.
The factory tour itself was really interesting. You're given Formula One style radio headphones and the tour guide takes you right from the component parts, to the fully assembled bike. At various points he points to a worker and says 'Tarquin here is scanning the bar code for the bike and the tools now set themselves to the correct torque for tightening the felangethon gasket' or words to that effect. The thing that I found interesting was that each bike is different. They don't build rows and rows of one type; one bike may be a Daytona bound for France, the next may be a Sprint for Australia. Anyway, go if you have the chance.
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