We bided our time. We had the primal urge to break down, destroy, and rebuild a new Triumph for what seemed like eons. We stalked and circled the shop, anticipating the kill.
We were like zombies searching for fresh brains. We could not stop until we bit down and felt the pressure and satisfaction of fresh blood that only this new project could fulfill, and we needed it fast. But we had to hunt the right prey...someone of a hearty stock-one whose balls had dropped from their abdominal cavity and were ready to let us destroy their perfectly good stock Triumph that was still under warranty, so that we could redesign, re-engineer, and rebuild it into a glorious reanimated beast of a bike.
Sometime last year we got the call, and we pounced on it like a retarded one-eyed albino Bengalese tiger in heat. A guy named Josh from California looked us up and said he had a 2004 Bonneville that he wanted to do something with. Now Josh is a helicopter machine gunner, and he was about to head back to the desert for another tour. We knew he had the sack to undertake this project and see it all the way through with us.
Agreements were made. Our brass-balled benefactor had the bike sent out our way before he headed back to the sand. We promised that when he got back his bike would be transformed from a timid puppy to a rabid, gnashing pitbull-the kind that looked sleek and beautiful, but had been raised in a garbage can and beaten with sticks to instill an air of general insanity and a honed instinct for brutality in the beast...and Josh was in league with us.
This bike was going to be built-in homage to the decades-old tradition of chopping Triumphs. Sure, a couple guys had beaten us to the chase and built some modern Triumph customs before we could. The problem as we saw it, though, was that they often looked like a mash of malarkey. We sought to keep the lines and design that made old Triumph chops beautiful. We wanted the best of both worlds: Timeless class and an upgraded, more powerful mill...beauty and the beast.
The bike took about a couple weeks to get to us. During that time we drooled around the shop like wolves with a freshly carved carcass dangling in front of us. To pass the time we took to random beatings, alcohol, and general lawlessness.
Then the Bonne finally arrived. We put down the burlap sacks of rusty doorknobs and headed to the sacrifice like bloodthirsty natives hell-bent on appeasing some wrathful God. Even bone-stock, these things are lookers, and though it was mid-winter, in far from balmy New England, I took her for a ride. A little sluggishness was noted, but we knew there was an untamed hyena in there, just waiting to get out.