I was living in south London at the time I passed my test and bought the Speed Triple. A strong bond immediately grew between the bike and myself, i felt it to be perfect for what I needed in every way. When it came to filtering through cars and launching myself forward at one of London's numerous traffic lights, it was on a par with no other machine.
In those days I was quite happy hooning down motorways, over the speed limit, with nothing but a minuscule piece of decorative fairing perched over the head lights to act as a wind protection. Chronic neck ache was common then but as long as I carried my trusty pill box full of Neurophen Plus I was fine.
One day Ben, a school friend of mine, asked me if I needed a job. We had a short discussion were he told me the job took place at Hotel Casablanca, Andalusia, Southern Spain. I said yes, packed my bags and booked a 1 way ferry ticket to Bilbao.
Once I arrived in Bilbao, I had 24 hours to make it to the town of Gaucin. It was a hell of a long way for the time I had but I thought positively and gave it my best shot.
All that I noticed of the highways was the quiet. Hardly any cars or lorries were on the road which I found to be relieving. Along with the quite was the abundance of Spanish police and lack of speed camera's. It was on this trip that I got my personal speed record of 139mph. Nothing compared to those people that ride a Suzuki Hayabusa and push 200+ on a motorway, but a lot for me. The Speed Triple is a naked machine which required me to lie flat on the tank so to escape the blast of wind which would have blown me clean off at that speed. A personal best but one that I do not care to try to beat. My speed speed danger danger days are over, hence the purchase of a Yamaha XT 660 Tenere which has a BHP of 46, compared to the Triumphs 118. I like to remember that period of my life and think that those were the days, when I was free and hadn't a care in the world.
I arrived in Gaucin sore, disheveled and exhausted and was told by Henry, the head chef that I was needed the following morning at 6am.
The job lasted 6 weeks before he asked me to leave. The reason being he told me was that I put all my energy and attention in to riding around Andalusia which left me with very little energy for my cooking. Nail on the head and I was not surprised. This left me free to ride to Tangiers in Morocco.
I drove to Tarifa, caught the short ferry to Tangiers and spent 3 days riding around the Moroccan capital and surrounding countryside. After my time in northern Africa I started about my trip back to Gaucin, ready to make my onward travel arrangements. Just after leaving the town of Estepona I pulled back my throttle as normal when I reached a main road and there was this clunking noise coming from the gear box followed by a compleat loss of drive in any gear. Oh crap I thought and there was nothing I could do but cry. I must have been a funny sight, a 2 meter tall man with a shaved head and tattoos crying by the roadside. I just knew that was it for my euro travels and I had a world of shit ahead of me. I needed to somehow get my bike to a Triumph mechanic were I would try to claim the repairs on a warranty of an English registered machine in a country I had never been to before in a language I just didn't speak.
My best bet I thought would be to try the Triumph garage in Gibraltar, one of the few remaining English colonies. No joy, the owner was terrified at the amount of work and parts ordering he would have to do without receiving a penny due to the warranty being effective. After a long think about my situation I managed to sort out some transportation for the bike to be taken back to London. After 3 weeks the bike arrived and the work got done at no charge, the cost of the bike shipping was astronomical.
Location:Spain
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