The boys are back in town


Ever since I can remember, two motorcycle marques stood out - Jawa and Triumph. My dad rode (and still does occasionally) a Jawa 250. So yeah, the former is no surprise. The Triumph, well, I happen to stay opposite a Parsi colony and Mr Mistry had the biggest, loudest and shiniest motorcycle I had ever seen. It didn't matter that his son rode a Honda 600; that Triumph used to make my day. I never got around to riding it, but I did have the privilege, as an eight year old lad, to wring the throttle whenever Mr Mistry saw me lusting over his motorcycle.

The sound, oh Lord, was something else. A healthy confluence of a bark and a growl with the sound of raindrops falling onto a tin roof when at idle, the Triumph was something else, nothing akin to any of the other bikes on the road. It was butch, pretty, voluptious, petite, loud and subtle all rolled into one. Ah, what a stunner, that Triumph.

Mistry senior went to his heavenly abode by the time I managed to scrape through into college and Junior could do with a roof over his ride. So he traded his dad's bike for a car. Yes, an old Triumph Tiger 100 for a Maruti Zen seemed like the deal of a century to the young Mistry lad. I didn't see the bloke who got the Triumph, but I am sure he smiled a lot for years to come.

Yes, like I said before, I'm thrilled that Triumph is in India. My Speed Twin is way too old now and could do with some rest. Time to save up for that Bonnie, then!