Sound of the SEVENTIES - Triumph T160

Triumph’s three cylinder Trident provided the signature sound for racers in the early Seventies and led to the best of the bunch, the T160 made for just a year from 1975 before the factory collapsed. John Nutting recalls testing the last of the line.
NOW that three cylinder motorcycles are becoming more popular, with Benelli, Aprilia and Sauber developing Superbike and MotoGP racing triples, it is worth remembering that Triumph has been making them, on and off, for more than 30 years.
Triples are the basis of the Hinckley-based factory’s sports machines such as current range leader, the 149 bhp Daytona 955i. Although modern riders may not regard them as being at the leading edge of technology, there’s no denying that these Triumphs have a singular and undeniably appealing character.
Indeed, three cylinder bikes have always offered a pleasing balance between torquey twins and frantic fours. Even in their most unrefined form, vibration levels are lower than a parallel twin’s and the engine has an unmistakably fruity exhaust note. Any race fan who heard Triumph’s and MV Agusta’s racers of the early Seventies would never fail to be roused by their haunting howl.
The first Triumph triple was the Trident, one of two similar models launched at the end of 1968 by the BSA-Triumph group, the other model being the BSA Rocket 3, which featured styling differences and cylinders canted forward rather than vertical.
They were designed to satisfy growing demand for a high-performance multi from the US market and reached Europe just before Honda’s CB750. Unlike the Japanese four, the British design failed to feature modern disc brakes or a self starter.
As with most engines from BSA and Triumph, the triples were evolutionary rather than revolutionary, largely because of conservative management. Development started in 1963 as a Doug Hele design that was in essence a 500cc Tiger 100 twin with an extra cylinder, even down to the 67 x 70mm bore and stroke.
Despite its complex construction, the triple proved to be tough enough for racing, and works machines tuned by Hele had success both in the US - Dick Mann won the Daytona 200 in 1970 on a works triple - and Europe, providing a signature sound for the period.
But the same BSA-Triumph management that strapped design and development cash also failed to grasp the potential of selling replicas of the racers for road use.
Hindsight has for three decades enabled commentators to damn the failed vision of the BSA Group during the late Sixties. Once the biggest motorcycle manufacturer in the world, in 1970 it was still an industrial concern making such diverse products as sintered components - in which it was a world leader - and taxis for London, as well as bikes.
Although many of the development engineers were keen enthusiasts, top management was out of touch, drawing upon high-profile but impractical stylists such as Ogle Design, which was responsible for the Trident and Rocket 3’s chunky appearance.
Production debacles in advance of the 1971 season have also been well documented. In short, a complete restyling exercise went wrong and the key selling period in the US was missed. Sales were lost and stock piled up. Losses were huge.
Upshot was a takeover partly funded through the British government by Denis Poore’s Manganese Bronze Holdings, which owned Norton Villiers.
In 1972, a truncated range was offered by the Norton-Villiers-Triumph group, the Triumph T150 triple gaining a long-overdue disc brake and a five-speed gearbox.
It’s arguable that the racing efforts had partly sustained the image of the triples. But they also had some impact, eventually, on the road bike’s performance and handling.
The factory programme also included the production class, which allowed bikes to be modified with a modicum of tuning and racing accessories such as fairings. In 1970 a number of works T150s were built for a campaign that included the Isle of Man Production TT.
TT winner
LES Williams, now retired at 69, was in charge of the race shop at the Triumph factory at Meriden where the bikes were fettled. “We built three machines, and No2 won the 1971 Production TT ridden by Ray Pickrell at a race average of 100.07 mph,” he recalls.
So well prepared was this bike, that Ray repeated the win the following year. In 1973 it was ridden by Tony Jefferies with equal success, notching up a hat-trick of wins for the bike in the 750cc class.
No doubt lobbied by manufacturers with over-750cc machines to promote, in 1974 the TT organisers upped the class limit to 1000cc. But the same machine, now named ‘Slippery Sam’ because of its oil leaks, was victorious again, this time in the hands of Mick Grant at a speed of 99.72 mph.
Les Williams bought the bike at the end of that season and in 1975 entered it again in the TT in what had now become a ten-lap handicap production race in which the smaller bikes were sent off first. Nonetheless, team-mates Dave Croxford and Alex George prevailed to win at 99.6 mph, giving Slippery Sam its fifth consecutive, and never-equalled, victory in the Isle of Man.
Production racing machines of the day were far removed from the bikes you could buy in a showroom. Arcane rules allowed modifications and these were often changed to the advantage of the factories.
One problem with the works Triumphs was lack of cornering clearance so the rules were changed to allow the frames to be altered and the engines raised. Norman Hyde was a development engineer at Triumph at the time. “I was on the ACU homologation committee representing Triumph,” he says. “When the T150s were too low to race, I had the rules altered from ‘frame must be standard’ to ‘frame must be of standard type’.
It was to have a significant influence on the final version of the Trident, a machine that embodied many of the features that should have been incorporated when launched in 1968.
Soon after the creation of Norton-Villiers-Triumph in 1972, it was decided to consolidate manufacturing at the Small Heath factory of BSA and close the Triumph plant at Meriden. Triumph workers responded with the fabled sit-in and the eventual formation of the workers co-operative that continued to manufacture the Bonneville twins.

Still the KING

Never mind the retros, the original Z1A still tops the beauty contest, reckons Roland Brown. And in the saddle it still delivers spine-tingling excitement.
AT an indicated ton it’s a hell of a thrill. You’re crouched down in a vain attempt to escape from the wind, peering over the clocks and with arms raised to high, wide handlebars. The big engine is sucking audibly through its open-topped airbox beneath the seat, and howling louder through four chrome silencers as the mighty Z1 speeds along with the force and style that once made it the undisputed King.
Then you glance down at the steering head and realise that the bars don’t just feel light, but that they’re moving slightly yet visibly from side to side under the strain being fed into the chassis. It’s not quite a weave but it’s not far from becoming one - and it shows the other side of the Kawasaki’s personality.
The motor’s smoothness and easy speed could almost deceive you that this is a modern multi. But superbikes were very different when the Z1 ruled the roads.
Was it really almost 30 years ago that Kawasaki launched the Z1 and overnight rewrote the book on two-wheeled performance far more dramatically than Honda did in ‘92 with the FireBlade?
The Zephyr retro bikes, built in its honour, make the first Zed seem far younger than it is. To my mind none of those recent Kawas comes close to matching the look - rounded and gentle, yet at the same time raw and brutally powerful - that helped make the Z1 such an instant success.
It was pure performance, though - stunning by 1973 standards - that announced the Z1’s arrival and ensured its lasting fame. This bike’s 135 mph top whack was over 10 mph higher than that of Honda’s CB750, until then Japan’s finest superbike, and the Kawasaki’s standing quarter-mile time of 12.5 seconds was over a second quicker. Neither the Honda nor anything else could keep it in sight.
Yet the bike that established Kawasaki’s lasting reputation for power with reliability might never have been built. In the Autumn of 1968, Kawasaki’s engineers had been dismayed when, with their own plans for a four cylinder 750 well advanced, Honda had unveiled the CB750.
What a comeback
RATHER than abandon their project, code-named ‘New York Steak’, Kawasaki learned all they could from the opposition, enlarged their own engine to 903cc, and returned four years later with the Z1.
Their efforts were rewarded, because the Z1 powerplant - with square dimensions of 66 x 66mm, compression ratio of 8.5:1, and twin camshafts working eight valves via bucket-and-shim adjustment - was in a class of its own.
Its claimed maximum output of 82 bhp at 8500 rpm meant the Kawasaki was fully 15 bhp more powerful than the smaller, single-cam Honda. The motor, with its distinctive round-ended cam-cover, was angled slightly forward in a chassis based around a conventional twin-cradle steel frame.
Front forks held a 19-inch spoked wheel, with a single 11.6in disc brake. A second disc and caliper could be fitted as an extra, using lugs already fitted to the right fork slider. Twin rear shocks, adjustable for preload, held an 18-inch wheel with an eight-inch diameter drum brake.
If the Z1’s chassis specification was ordinary, then its styling was inspired. Although understandably big and heavy, weighing 542 lb wet and with a 1500mm wheelbase (50mm longer than the CB750’s), the Kawasaki looked anything but.
Its slim fuel tank, small rounded sidepanels, rear ducktail, four silencers and cleanly shaped front mudguard helped give an eager look that made the Honda seem dumpy and tame by comparison.
Those high handlebars and the Z1’s fairly forward-set footpegs were hardly designed to help exploit the bike’s all-conquering horsepower. But all these years on, the improbably relaxed riding position merely adds to the thrill of riding the Kawa, as you straddle the thick seat and look out over the simple dashboard layout of twin clocks with warning lights in the centre.
Lost sensation
IMMEDIATELY the motor fires up you’re reminded of one sensation lost to riders of modern motorcycles, because the Z1 burbles through its four pipes with a menacing sound far removed from the muted whine of today’s fours.
The throttle and clutch are light, typically Japanese in their efficiency, and the Kawasaki pulls away feeling manageable thanks partly to a fairly low centre of gravity. By today’s standards the four-cylinder engine’s tractability and docility at low revs are unremarkable, although 28 years ago such sophisticated behaviour was impressive for a high-performance machine.
Carburation of the four 28mm Mikunis is crisp, the five-speed gearbox slick, and the big, torquey motor pulls happily from as little as 3000 rpm in top gear. There’s a little more vibration than from most modern fours, enough to blur the mirrors much of the time, but the ride is acceptably smooth.
The Z1 cruises at 80 mph with just 5000 rpm showing on the tacho and with four grand still to come before the redline. At that sort of speed the motor feels relaxed and unburstable - even if the exposed riding position means that description does not apply to the rider for long.
Thoughts of comfort are forgotten, though, when at about 50 mph in third gear you crack the throttle open to send the Kawa storming forward with an arm-wrenching surge of acceleration that is thrilling now and must have been mind-blowing back in ‘73. These days the Z1 would probably be outsprinted by Kawasaki’s ZR-7 roadster, let alone the ZX-12R. But there’s a raw urgency about the old warrior’s power delivery that sends a tingle down your spine. And the handling helps to make the ride exciting, because for all the Z1’s reputation as a fair handler in its day it is easy to see why the Kawasaki brought plenty of trade to chassis specialists such as Harris, Martin and Bakker.
Throughout my short ride, this immaculate, 1974-model Z1A didn’t once misbehave seriously enough to become worrying. But at speeds above 80 mph, the steering’s generally light feel did little to inspire confidence.
This machine has been restored to the condition it left the showroom in 1974, almost to the last nut and bolt. It is even correct in details such as its use of original type ball-race steering head bearings instead of superior taper-roller bearings commonly used as a replacement. After riding it, you understand why riders in the Seventies rarely left their bikes standard for long.

It's a BLAST!

The heady days of Hawkestone Park and Farleigh Castle with the likes of Noyce and Hudson are alive and well today. The rules are simple, the racing is cheap and the social scene great. Ian Berry (no relation, BB) gives us the lowdown.
TWIN SHOCK moto cross is one of today’s most exciting forms of motorcycle sport, catering for machines dating from the early Seventies through to the early Eighties.
This period marked the beginning of a suspension revolution in moto cross, when leading Euro-manufacturers such as CZ, Husqvarna and Maico all experimented with longer travel suspension.
The Japanese were also going down the same road and Yamaha ‘shocked’ the world with the introduction of their cantilever, monoshock rear suspension. By 1974, ace British frame-builder Eric Cheney was also experimenting with a cantilever rear end and radical-looking trailing link front forks, not dissimilar to those that found their way onto Roger De Coster’s factory Suzuki a few seasons later.
By the mid-Seventies, six or seven inches of suspension movement front and rear were standard, with suspension specialists experimenting with gas, air and air/oil damping. The most common rear end configuration was now longer rear shocks either moving up the swinging arm towards the pivot or laid-down at an extreme angle.
But as a new decade dawned, the multi-pivot, single shock designs began to appear and wheel movement, front and rear, was pushed into an altogether new dimension.
Twin shock racing was born to recreate that earlier period of moto cross, when riders still had to wrestle for control of such beasts as the 490 Maico, the 460 Husqvarna and the thundering British-built CCMs on relatively natural tracks.
The ‘National Talking Point’ twin shock series is the sport’s equivalent of football’s Premier League. Its name comes from its main sponsor, a specialist mobile phone business run by Darren Duesbury, himself a keen twin shock racer.
Darren rode moto cross in the Seventies and early Eighties and kept his bikes. Like many he was lured back into racing when the twin shock scene began to take off. “It’s a great sport, which represents excellent value for money,” he says. “The old bikes don’t cost a fortune and the racing is very entertaining. The series is great fun and we regularly have 100 to 150 entries at meetings.”
No time for rules
DARREN Hudson is entering his fourth year as the series co-ordinator. Darren raced twin shock until a serious neck injury, sustained during his time as a rugby professional, forced him to retire.
“Twin shock racing is all about enjoyment,” he says. “When the riders go out to race it’s pretty serious but it’s also a real social event. It’s a good crack. People often ask about the rules and I tell them; ‘Rule one, the bike must be a twin shock, it must have drum brakes and it must be aircooled. Rule two? There are no other rules!’.”
Even this solitary rule is open to interpretation. Surprisingly, some mono-shockers are eligible! Yamaha used the cantilever system until the early Eighties and they regularly compete in twin shock meetings. Huskys of the same era came equipped with watercooling and they are also permissible, though the line does seem to be drawn at disc brakes.
Hudson tries to be as accommodating as possible. “We have some guys turn up with ‘full-floater’ Suzukis. We tell them they’re welcome to ride but on condition that they can’t receive points.”
Darren is very excited about this year’s World Twin shock Championship to be staged at Canada Heights on June 15-16. “We’ve got a host of former world champions coming. Brad Lackey will be flying over, Bengt Aberg will be riding and so will Graham Noyce and Neil Hudson. It should be a great weekend.”