By Keith May
(Originally appeared in Cycle World magazine)
You get used to it after awhile. The looks, the smiles, furtive glances, longing stares. Everywhere I go, women, men, children and old folks, too. At stoplights, in parking lots or chasing me down the highway to follow close beside, faces pressed against the window like giddy schoolgirls. Yeah, it’s tough sometimes, but I try not to let the adoration go to my head. Afterall, it’s the bike not the rider they’re falling in love with.
“That’s a really nice bike. I mean a reeeeeeeeeealy nice bike.” I hear repeatedly, verbatim, from a wide variety of friends and strangers all day long. People who usually shy away from bikes are magically drawn to the 2006 Triumph Bonneville. And staying true to its British pedigree, it receives winks and nods from purists, too. Thanks to Brando, McQueen and Arthur Fonzarelli, the Bonnie’s silhouette is burned forever in our collective consciousness and triggers idyllic notions of biker fantasies.
Legs wrap around the small tank naturally, back straight, hands at shoulder width, a soft seat with room for three and enough power from the oil-cooled 790cc Twin to stay (slightly) ahead of traffic. A full tank carries me a tick over 100 miles before hitting reserve.
Fit and finish are immaculate, but as attractive as this bike is cosmetically, under her skin a thousand parts are happily chugging away in perfect union. Featherweight clutch action and a nicely meshed gearbox keep the party going. Idle to redline, smooth as butter and quiet as a mouse. The perfect accomplice for a friend’s ranch-style wedding in the Santa Ynez Valley, 200 miles away.
I get out of town early Friday and hit the 101 just before lunch-hour. Blasting through Ventura, Oxnard and Santa Barbara, I exit to find some elbow room on the casual two-lane of Highway 154. Ah, freedom at last! A detour on 246 carries me through hills of gold and manicured wine country. The Bonneville is a fine commuter, but really shows her legs in this open country and it’s hard not to fall for her easy nature. Or, maybe there’s just love in the air.
At the wedding later that day the groom arrives on horseback, his bride in a horse-drawn carriage. After a moving hilltop ceremony, dinner brings emotional speeches, stirring toasts, prime rib and dancing ’til midnight. Strangers become friends, friends become lovers, lovers become serious.
The morning after, I was back in the saddle, just me and the Bonnie, beating down the highway, enjoying those furtive glances.
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