Ghosts of Bikes Past: Missing My Triumph Speed Triple

Ghosts of Bikes Past: Missing My Triumph Speed Triple

Is it completely ridiculous and irrational to miss a “thing” like a motorcycle? For the past week or so I’ve been thinking a lot about and missing my 05′ Triumph Speed Triple.

fuzzygalore triumph speed triple

At the time that the Speed Triple was my main ride, traveling with it seemed perfectly wonderful. Everything on that bike just felt right to me. I never really did mind it’s close quarters for luggage.

fuzzygalore speed triple

But…I suppose some love affairs just run their course.

In 2011, Kenny bought us a pair of Triumph Tiger 1050s. Based on long days in the saddle and the desire to travel more it seemed like a no-brainer to move from the svelt and stubby frame of the Speed Triple to a bike that was more upright and had luggage. He was right and my sweet Speedy sat unridden for almost a year following the Tiger’s arrival.

When the Speed Triple was sold, I couldn’t even be here at the house when the guy came to take it away. I was sad to learn that the new owner was hit by a car and the bike was destroyed. Thankfully, the rider was okay, but it hurt my heart to know that “my bike” was no more. What a strange feeling.

5 Replies to “Ghosts of Bikes Past: Missing My Triumph Speed Triple”

  1. It’s good that you put “thing” in quotes; otherwise, I might have begun to doubt your commitment to the motorcycling lifestyle, and then I might have lost MY faith. (Not to imply that you’re a leader of some bizarre two-wheelers cult… No… Not at all.)

    I’m fascinated that many of us–yes, irrationally–personify vehicles: They become symbols, representing not themselves, but us and our pasts, trials and triumphs (pun intended?). They become crucial links.

    When I was in high school, I briefly owned a ’69 VW Bus. It was a regular subject of my adolescent poetry, stories, and dreams: I often envisioned myself going cross-country and into Canada in that thing, Steppenwolf’s Magic Carpet Ride looped on the radio. As it spent most of the time in pieces on the carport, it never really became a symbol of times had, but it certainly was a vessel for my wishes and hopes.

    Yet I’ve met plenty of folks who don’t flinch at selling vehicles they’ve had forever. I just don’t understand that.

    It’s heartbreaking what happened to your speed triple, or that you heard about it. When I sold the bus, I was happy that out-of-towners were buying it: The last thing I wanted to see in my neighborhood was a former love with another man’s ass in the driver’s seat… Hmmm.

    1. “a vessel for my wishes and hopes”

      I feel like this really hits the mark of why I miss that bike. It came about at a time when I was changing so much, becoming more of the me that I wanted to be. The memories that I fostered along with it are very dear to me.

      Once you learn the secret knock, you’ll be fully indoctrinated into the cult, Raindog. Beware. 😆

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