It was the night before Christmas when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a....Triumph Rat. Well, not quite. For the last four weeks it had been damp, foggy and salty on the roads and in the air from the salty, salty sea three hundred non-metric, proudly imperial, Whitworth yards away from my house. And so I was stirring quite profusely as my ten week old Bonneville was wrapped up warm in the swaddling flannel sheet of the concrete, asbestos-roofed garage down the road, like the baby Jesus in the manger. Not being one to assign a gender identity to my motorcycle, and keen to break the monotony of Bing Crosby and Slade's Christmas jingles on the radio, I went down to see 'it' (no offence Lord) parked on its centre-stand, waiting for the next dry day and the pestering D-Tool to arrive from the wise men in the West (NewBonneville) so that I can take the idling roughness out of its cold-weather burble and post-mod jagged edges.
To celebrate the precious gift of merchandise on Jesus's birthday, I'd brought 'it' precious gifts of Gold (TORs), Frankincense (new jets), and Myrrh (an oily air filter) and oh, OhioTT's generous donation of his other half of a Bellmouth, which he sent to me in the spirit of goodwill. With the hollowness of every non-postal, public holiday (including Chrimbo) I've anxiously, excitedly (and now neurotically) awaited the arrival of the precious D-Tool, which has become my golden ticket to finally getting it/ Him/ her up and running again in spite of the presence of evil on the satanic saline streets.
Anyway, opening the holly-green door of the manger-like garage, I whipped off 'its' (okay, 'her' sounds better here even though machines have no genitals) flannel blanket only to discover RUST on the farging shock absorbers (aka salt absorbers). Unholy barstiges! Ten weeks and rust already?!! My lamb has turned to mutton overnight. Good Lord, is Herod (aka Triumph) so cheap that he can't put a few extra layers of chrome on; the 5 minute saltwater spray testing notwithstanding? Afterall, the once 'great', Great Britain is a little island, and thus surrounded by SALT water! Or are they trying to cultivate waves of increasingly neurotic motorcycle owners who, like me, have become obsessed with cleaning, lubricating and spraying ACF-50 every time the garage door goes up and thus have no recourse but to buy up all the anti-rust, after-market parts I can (I'm also awaiting the alloy light kit from NB to replace the chromed plastic anti-Christ indicators and rear light). Soon the whole bike will be an exact replica of the original Triumph Bonneville I bought in October, only made out of stainless steel and aluminium (aloominum).
Oh wise men (and women) of the brotherly Triumph Rat community (Jerusalem, Bethlehem and New Jersey), help me understand so that I may become a better man and live a pure (balanced engine) and sin-free (rust-free) life...otherwise I may have my Bonneville set in perspex and buy a Honda Cub to ride around on instead.
