For Sale: 1970 Triumph Motorcycle in West Chester, Pennsylvania for sale in West Chester, PA
Vehicle Description 1970 Triumph Trophy 500 T100 Competition Motorcycle, 8,000 miles, restored and serviced as needed, period correct Purfect Purple, matching numbers, great history, runs, drives beautifully, super cool! Please call Carlo Connors at 610-505-8612, or email at email protected , or visit www.
ConnorsMotorcar.
com The whole story below:
Spring of 1970.
It all happened in vivid Kodachrome, as strong as black and white.
With the February issue of Cycle magazine's road test sacredly rolled up in his back pocket, my uncle rolls out of a west coast showroom after a tropical vacation from this deferred and preferred destination no more.
Now landing in Jacaranda.
A purple fizz of metallic cellulose lacquer.
A different tropical color.
The color of purple mountains majesty, over fruited plains.
Freedom, now from sea to shining sea.
Oh, a tank of purple fishes! Swimming laughing through your handlebars.
Knowing right there and then you have to take her, only her with you, through that heartland on a Triumph.
Whoa! Magnificent eminence! Resplendent glory! Paid down in hard-earned cash.
A purple violet as hard to forget as the first crocus of Spring or the magical luminescence of those psychedelic street side canopies in Southern California gone full gonzo bloom-going boom, boom, boom, boom-knocking you right out, right off of your feet, especially when you've been holed too deep in the quagmire of jungle mud waiting to get back, just to start over This uncle, you might know the kind.
While not by blood, but by familial influence.
The strong mentoring individual who knew how to live life, and still remind you every day of yours-if we're that lucky to ride on the shoulders of those kind of giants.
A breed apart.
This is the fire-eater that put the 'scram' in scrambler.
It's been the Grand National Enduro Champion seven years running.
Yet on the road it behaves like a sweetheart.
Try this one, and you can forget about the rest, read the straight-to-your-face sales brochure from Tri-Cor, Duarte Braced handlebar, high pipes, surfboard striped tank and stainless fenders.
Folding pegs, skid plate, enduro headlight and one gauge, a mere suggestion of speed.
No need wasting time looking back, as mirrors were optional.
Triumph built a race reputation on the revvy 500, producing AMA Grand National champions on the track, dirt and in the desert.
T.
T.
, for Truly Triumph.
Forget circus showmen Dylan, McQueen and Knievel, why not be a regular Romero, Nixon, Aldana or Ekins for a day? The 500 Schwinn twin, a perfectly balanced mid-weight motorcycle personality for over thirty years, was always cool, always a winner.
For the first few endless summers of seventies soul, this 500 moved between friends in Big Sur, holed up in an A-frame that was built around a patriarchal redwood off Nacimiento-Fergusson Road where the door was never locked and the Union key stayed in the ignition.
A yucca pack and Navajo blanket nearby.
The vinyl tool bag behind the left side panel stashed just enough sinsemilla to get started, and get by, soul surfing the rolling turns of El Camino Real, only stopping to oblige a sweet hitcher's thumb and beaming, blinding sunshine smile to savor the deep blue view and roll one, Zig and Zagging without sharing a word in need to explain Sans souci, there's a few faded road trip snapshots around here somewhere, if I can find them to toss back under the seat.
Over the years, this 500 was luckily stashed for a long while in one piece, then in the Sierras without wearing a sissybar or peanut tank, then retired east to North Carolina before Pennsylvania for this pit-stop, ducking the decades of bad reality shows sacrilegiously hacking the past with torches and profanity between Jesse and Paul.
AND NOW? A JOY RIDE TO A MIND TRIP.
The 500 is in very good condition, cosmetic chips, hickeys and all, reflecting care and respect while inspiring outright rowdy enthusiasm, if not a riot of violet.
It runs mannered, wild, tracks and stops with glee.
It tickles and fires right up, eager without issue, revs a rowdy racket and wakes up every analog sense currently deadened by overstuffed couches, working from home and the numbing excessive screen time of Netflix, Hulu and YouTube, where everyone else is living your life.
So, here's a not so gentle reminder to get loose, get lost, wander and just plain wonder.
But caution:
overuse or late-night tears will devalue local suburban real estate and invite neighborly intervention and forced time outs.
For quieter skin in the game back on the bench, the only notable maintenance chores, maybe for regular use, or not, would be replace the lazy kick/shift return springs over a pint or two if the sunshine daydream is too relaxed for the particular - wanting it just, right.
The top end was done not long ago, and the bike runs really well, absolutely free, has crisp throttle response, solid compression and hits every shift while connecting an exhaust note to the widest grin possible while eyes are pissing tears of joy, even when it's just parked in admiration, sitting quietly over in the corner, as is most of the time.
Drooling a drip, tires going soft.
Like all our once heroic uncles.
CONCOURS RESTORATION AVOIDED.
IT'S CENTRAL COASTAL SOUL STILL AUTHENTICALLY INTACT.
Leave over the top for the Pebble Beach crowd.
Best to wear a bike in, then wear it out.
Sometimes make do, just not without.
Mechanical wear items have been replaced along the merry way.
This bike rips more comfortably than a faded favorite pair of Levi's in a hula-hoop.
RECENT SERVICE TO GET ROLLING AGAIN:
Never mind the charming, long gone, spotty factory craftsmanship as any bugs have been long worked out.
The recent usual air, gas and spark chores included:
new Dunlop K70s; Amal 626 and velo stack; throttle/choke/clutch cables; brake job, wheel and steering bearings greased; fresh clutch kit; replacement Lucas wire harness sans smoke, battery, rectifier/diode combo; fork boots, wider western bars, grey grips; tach, drive, cable and wheel spacer; all fresh fluids, gaskets as needed.
Cosmetically, all three tanks repainted.
Frame is still original stovepipe dip and gas tank remains unlined, only etched and industrial primed without issue but new cocks.
Mid-sixties seat swapped in to match wider bars for a more relaxed riding position.
The earlier taillight housing merely a minimal preference.
Just.
Right.
ORIGINAL PARTS, HIDDEN AWAY FOR KEEPS:
As interchangeable as a Triumph is between model years, these original parts as delivered on bike, are boxed and included to bolt back to stock trim as desired:
Front stainless fender with brackets and bolts; C model (braced) handlebars and steering lock; speedo, cable and drive; carburetor and air cleaner; seat, grab rail and D.
O.
T.
tail light housing; exhaust mufflers and heat shields, (but no fish-n-chips basket); skid plate and new center stand with hardware.
Rattled off lost along the way were the amber reflector set, rear view mirror and that deep fryer chip basket, to be hunted down on the side of a few roads back.
WHAT GOOD IS ANY OF IT IF IT CAN'T BE SHARED? The 500 is now a jump ball, ready to pass around again.
Of course, any goodwill mechanical spares discovered along the way get folded in, including Owner's/Workshop manuals, a minty sales brochure and period road test articles.
Just stay off the grass, in the tool bag.
It's way past stale.
So, get going.
Take it easy but take it.
The river flows, it flows to the sea.
Wherever that river goes, that's where I long to be.
Flow river flow.
Let your waters wash down.
Take me from this road to some other town.
Life can't ever pass you by as long as there are Triumphs, rolling gentle across our minds.
.
ConnorsMotorcar.
com The whole story below:
Spring of 1970.
It all happened in vivid Kodachrome, as strong as black and white.
With the February issue of Cycle magazine's road test sacredly rolled up in his back pocket, my uncle rolls out of a west coast showroom after a tropical vacation from this deferred and preferred destination no more.
Now landing in Jacaranda.
A purple fizz of metallic cellulose lacquer.
A different tropical color.
The color of purple mountains majesty, over fruited plains.
Freedom, now from sea to shining sea.
Oh, a tank of purple fishes! Swimming laughing through your handlebars.
Knowing right there and then you have to take her, only her with you, through that heartland on a Triumph.
Whoa! Magnificent eminence! Resplendent glory! Paid down in hard-earned cash.
A purple violet as hard to forget as the first crocus of Spring or the magical luminescence of those psychedelic street side canopies in Southern California gone full gonzo bloom-going boom, boom, boom, boom-knocking you right out, right off of your feet, especially when you've been holed too deep in the quagmire of jungle mud waiting to get back, just to start over This uncle, you might know the kind.
While not by blood, but by familial influence.
The strong mentoring individual who knew how to live life, and still remind you every day of yours-if we're that lucky to ride on the shoulders of those kind of giants.
A breed apart.
This is the fire-eater that put the 'scram' in scrambler.
It's been the Grand National Enduro Champion seven years running.
Yet on the road it behaves like a sweetheart.
Try this one, and you can forget about the rest, read the straight-to-your-face sales brochure from Tri-Cor, Duarte Braced handlebar, high pipes, surfboard striped tank and stainless fenders.
Folding pegs, skid plate, enduro headlight and one gauge, a mere suggestion of speed.
No need wasting time looking back, as mirrors were optional.
Triumph built a race reputation on the revvy 500, producing AMA Grand National champions on the track, dirt and in the desert.
T.
T.
, for Truly Triumph.
Forget circus showmen Dylan, McQueen and Knievel, why not be a regular Romero, Nixon, Aldana or Ekins for a day? The 500 Schwinn twin, a perfectly balanced mid-weight motorcycle personality for over thirty years, was always cool, always a winner.
For the first few endless summers of seventies soul, this 500 moved between friends in Big Sur, holed up in an A-frame that was built around a patriarchal redwood off Nacimiento-Fergusson Road where the door was never locked and the Union key stayed in the ignition.
A yucca pack and Navajo blanket nearby.
The vinyl tool bag behind the left side panel stashed just enough sinsemilla to get started, and get by, soul surfing the rolling turns of El Camino Real, only stopping to oblige a sweet hitcher's thumb and beaming, blinding sunshine smile to savor the deep blue view and roll one, Zig and Zagging without sharing a word in need to explain Sans souci, there's a few faded road trip snapshots around here somewhere, if I can find them to toss back under the seat.
Over the years, this 500 was luckily stashed for a long while in one piece, then in the Sierras without wearing a sissybar or peanut tank, then retired east to North Carolina before Pennsylvania for this pit-stop, ducking the decades of bad reality shows sacrilegiously hacking the past with torches and profanity between Jesse and Paul.
AND NOW? A JOY RIDE TO A MIND TRIP.
The 500 is in very good condition, cosmetic chips, hickeys and all, reflecting care and respect while inspiring outright rowdy enthusiasm, if not a riot of violet.
It runs mannered, wild, tracks and stops with glee.
It tickles and fires right up, eager without issue, revs a rowdy racket and wakes up every analog sense currently deadened by overstuffed couches, working from home and the numbing excessive screen time of Netflix, Hulu and YouTube, where everyone else is living your life.
So, here's a not so gentle reminder to get loose, get lost, wander and just plain wonder.
But caution:
overuse or late-night tears will devalue local suburban real estate and invite neighborly intervention and forced time outs.
For quieter skin in the game back on the bench, the only notable maintenance chores, maybe for regular use, or not, would be replace the lazy kick/shift return springs over a pint or two if the sunshine daydream is too relaxed for the particular - wanting it just, right.
The top end was done not long ago, and the bike runs really well, absolutely free, has crisp throttle response, solid compression and hits every shift while connecting an exhaust note to the widest grin possible while eyes are pissing tears of joy, even when it's just parked in admiration, sitting quietly over in the corner, as is most of the time.
Drooling a drip, tires going soft.
Like all our once heroic uncles.
CONCOURS RESTORATION AVOIDED.
IT'S CENTRAL COASTAL SOUL STILL AUTHENTICALLY INTACT.
Leave over the top for the Pebble Beach crowd.
Best to wear a bike in, then wear it out.
Sometimes make do, just not without.
Mechanical wear items have been replaced along the merry way.
This bike rips more comfortably than a faded favorite pair of Levi's in a hula-hoop.
RECENT SERVICE TO GET ROLLING AGAIN:
Never mind the charming, long gone, spotty factory craftsmanship as any bugs have been long worked out.
The recent usual air, gas and spark chores included:
new Dunlop K70s; Amal 626 and velo stack; throttle/choke/clutch cables; brake job, wheel and steering bearings greased; fresh clutch kit; replacement Lucas wire harness sans smoke, battery, rectifier/diode combo; fork boots, wider western bars, grey grips; tach, drive, cable and wheel spacer; all fresh fluids, gaskets as needed.
Cosmetically, all three tanks repainted.
Frame is still original stovepipe dip and gas tank remains unlined, only etched and industrial primed without issue but new cocks.
Mid-sixties seat swapped in to match wider bars for a more relaxed riding position.
The earlier taillight housing merely a minimal preference.
Just.
Right.
ORIGINAL PARTS, HIDDEN AWAY FOR KEEPS:
As interchangeable as a Triumph is between model years, these original parts as delivered on bike, are boxed and included to bolt back to stock trim as desired:
Front stainless fender with brackets and bolts; C model (braced) handlebars and steering lock; speedo, cable and drive; carburetor and air cleaner; seat, grab rail and D.
O.
T.
tail light housing; exhaust mufflers and heat shields, (but no fish-n-chips basket); skid plate and new center stand with hardware.
Rattled off lost along the way were the amber reflector set, rear view mirror and that deep fryer chip basket, to be hunted down on the side of a few roads back.
WHAT GOOD IS ANY OF IT IF IT CAN'T BE SHARED? The 500 is now a jump ball, ready to pass around again.
Of course, any goodwill mechanical spares discovered along the way get folded in, including Owner's/Workshop manuals, a minty sales brochure and period road test articles.
Just stay off the grass, in the tool bag.
It's way past stale.
So, get going.
Take it easy but take it.
The river flows, it flows to the sea.
Wherever that river goes, that's where I long to be.
Flow river flow.
Let your waters wash down.
Take me from this road to some other town.
Life can't ever pass you by as long as there are Triumphs, rolling gentle across our minds.
.
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