When you get to my age, one has a lot of history to deal with.
Some of that history will inevitably be tragic, or at least sad. Some involves attachments and memories that illuminate what’s really important. Some has elements of both.
Having lost both my parents in the past four years, it’s time for my sister and I to start thinking about what to do with the family property in West Virginia that my parents bought in 1965. And with that looming, I had one more incentive to deal with another, less weighty piece of my personal history: the 1997 Triumph Speed Triple that I’ve owned since 1998, making it one of my oldest possessions and one that’s very much associated with me in the minds of those who know me, or at least the motorcyclists who know me.
When we moved to Massachusetts last year and downsized for city living, I sold my Daytona 675, rode 900 miles on the Suzuki GN125 passed down from my mother to give it to my nephew, and the Speed Triple stayed behind in storage at the family plot in West Virginia. I became essentially a one-motorcycle person, because that’s what I had room for in my new life.
Life is changing again in 2023, however, both because we’ll be thinking about selling the old property and because my wife and I will be moving across the state to a new town and a house with a proper garage. It was time to get reunited with the old Speed Triple and the perfect opportunity arose.
Tie the knot, fire the triple
The younger son of my oldest friend (we’ve known each other since high school) was getting married so my wife and I flew to Ohio, danced at their wedding, and then she flew home while my friend gave me a ride to West Virginia, where I mounted a new rear tire on the Speed Triple for the ride to Massachusetts. More than one person had legitimate questions about riding that far on a 25-year-old motorcycle that had been sitting untouched since May, but it fired up without hesitation and my plan was underway.
On my ride through some of my favorite parts of West Virginia, I stopped by to pay respects to family no longer with us. Lots of history and memories involved in this relatively short trip.
I did stretch out the trip longer than usual, for reasons ranging from not wanting to stress either the bike’s aging chassis or mine, plus the shortness of the days and my total lack of desire to ride into the darkness through some of the worst deer country in the United States. I got lucky with the weather, starting off with a half-day of travel in the 60s. Still, it is November, so I also had to deal with temperatures in the 30s the next morning and I was glad I’d had the foresight to keep my Hotwired heated gloves with the Speed Triple.
We made the 800-mile trip without a single setback. That doesn’t mean the Speed Triple is good as new, however. No motorcycle that has suffered 24 years of my “maintenance” skills could ever be considered anything other than a survivor. So a few days after arriving home, I took it on one more ride and dropped it off at an independent shop where it’s going to get some overdue attention, from the sticking rear brake caliper to the leaking fork seals and a few other things in between.
The old Speed Triple, ready for a spa day at a popular independent mechanic’s shop.
On the way to the shop, the Speed Triple rolled over 119,000 miles. I don’t have any grand plans for it. There will be no worries about cosmetics. Its many scuffs and scratches are memories I don’t want to erase. It won’t be going on any more long journeys (I have the VFR800 for that) or pushed to perform at a track day. I just want to keep riding it locally and enjoying it for as long as both of us are able.
As I wrote in my book, in a chapter called “Bonding” that was largely about this motorcycle, any good relationship eventually reaches a point where you realize there’s no calling it off. You’re in it until death do you part. The miles ahead on the Speed Triple will be easier ones than the miles behind, but I’m counting on several more miles to come before we both hang the key on the hook for the last time.
