Triumph Scrambler

I've ridden the Triumph Scrambler a few times now, mostly as the previous carburetor version and once on the launch of the fuel injected model. To be honest I didn't really get into the retro groove of the Scrambler in the same way as I did the Bonnie or the Thruxton. I put it down to the 270-degree crank that made the thing feel like a V-twin, which in my admittedly jaundiced opinion was just too much of a bend over to the Seppos. After all, is there a shortage of V-twins in the land of the free?

But time and miles are undoubtedly the best formula when it's a change of opinion you're looking for with a motorcycle -- and so it has been proven with the Scrambler. Dressed in all black the fuel-injected Scrambler looks remarkably fine and classic, especially from behind the bars. Certainly way more so than the faux military "it's already dirty" matt khaki Great Escape counterpart.

There's something about black that just works with chrome, and the Scrambler has masses of both working together to make a truly handsome machine. Years ago a good friend of mine owned a BSA Firebird 650, a machine that in my mind is still the sexiest looking Street Scrambler ever made. The Scrambler may not have secured the title, but it's a close run thing.

At 58hp (43kW) there may not be a vast amount of cantering quadrupeds making their way to the back wheel via the five speeds being turned by the 865cc parallel twin. As a result no-one with an interest in numbers is going to stump up the required $12,490. But that's not the point of course, and anyway, our test machine came equipped with a pair of Triumph's very own "off-road" hot-dog mufflers. Visually identical to the librarian quiet originals, these little babies release some of the inherent Scrambler character. Resulting in what feels like a welcome dollop of snap-n-yeeha to the throttle response -- plus of course the accompanying rumble and racket, more about which later.

I am already an unashamed Bonneville fan (maybe that should be Bonna-phile?) having fallen for its sweet nature and its ability to be a blank canvass for all sorts of tuning and tweaking to toughen the thing up. Which given its ancestral namesake it really needs.

For starters I never really liked the ultra low 775mm seat height of the T100 Bonnie and would have fitted Thruxton shocks to jack things up a bit, thereby raising the seat and quickening the steering. Which, with a rake of 28 degrees and trail of 110mm, compared with say a Thruxton at 27 degrees and 97mm, verges on comatose.

By comparison, the Scrambler at 27.8 degrees and 105mm is noticeably more nimble and sits between the Bonnie and the Thruxton by virtue of the Bonneville T100 19-inch front wheel and the added benefit (in my book) of 30mm longer Thruxton rear shocks.

Which when coupled together provide the 825mm seat height. The result is that the Scrambler feels very different in handling character to the Bonneville and indeed the Thruxton. Where the Bonnie verges on a cruiser in feel, the Scrambler turns and tips with minimal effort, exhibiting neutrality, lightness and finesse.

Naturally having wide bars helps, and it's satisfyingly easy to find the limits of cornering clearance as the footrests touch, providing you don't get too carried away. As far as the actual suspension goes, everything feels reasonably firm and controlled, firmer at the front definitely than the Bonneville, a suspicion confirmed by the ever amiable technical manager at Triumph Australia, Cliff Stovall.

As a package this again provides the Scrambler with its own set of capabilities and supports the semi-Thruxton idea. Over bumps the plot delivers a tauter feel than the Bonnie and possibly even the Thruxton. There's less dive at the front under brakes and certainly less pitching and wallowing at speed. The world of easily controllable and definable limits is a fun place to be if you're happy to open your mind rather than your wallet in pursuit of unachievables, as is the case with many sports bikes.

If all is rosy in the handling garden, then the cat dung in the rose bed has to be the tyres. The semi-knobby Bridgestone Trail Wings may provide enough grip in the dry, but they're awful on wet roads, especially if there's a bit of polish or overbanding. What's more they deliver virtually no feedback, so confidence is based more on a leap of faith rather than useful information.

In daily day living, the Scrambler is as easy going as you could wish for. The engine spins up freely, responding to tiny fuel openings with no trace of any EFI fluffing. Good news of course for low speed control.

The lights and clocks are as you'd expect, rudimentary, so don't go expecting any luxuries like an on-board computer or even a rev counter. Despite the low rent spec, it all works easily and is entirely in keeping with the overall design.

Having peak torque a little lower in the range makes short shifting through the gears a joy around town, although first to second was a little tight due to the low mileage of the test bike. Despite that, shifting through third to fifth is precise and carries conviction. Just like the exhaust note. Sure the right-sided exhausts will cook your leg on a hot day in traffic, which is I guess the price for style, but the sound is indeed the way motorcycles should sound -- with the exception of the dreadful popping and banging on the over-run that is.

Gracing the front of the Scrambler there's just one 310mm disc clamped by a solitary twin-pot caliper, while down south there's a 255mm disc also gripped by a twin-piston caliper. It has to be said that this combo was a bit like the tyres - sure they functioned and could pull the thing up okay, but there was no inspiration to be found in the wooden response from the front, nor indeed the rear. It may be that it's a pad issue, as none of the Bonnies or indeed any other Triumph I've used felt this way.

Mind you it's a comfortable thing; solo anyway. That flat seat with its attractive white piping provides quite a good perch for as many kilometres as you can squeeze out of the tragically small 16lt tank; which, incidentally amounts to about 220-250 before you really-really start to worry.

Part of my wanting to test the Scrambler was to ascertain whether or not it had any off-road potential or even if it had any real lariikin in its soul. I guess part of my original discontent centered around the notion that here was a machine that carried overtones of mischief, but was really just a cynical styling and marketing decision.

I had hoped to try the Scrambler in an off-road environment, but circumstances prevented anything dirtier than back road grime and some horse poo. Yet at the end of my time with the Scrambler I feel I have an answer. Sure, there's no desert racer here without a lot of modification and weight loss -- and yes a large part of the appeal is simply down to style.

But at its heart, the Scrambler is different enough to do more than just carry off the illusion. Subtle changes in geometry have made enough of a difference to be noticeable, and the choice of engine -- that I have to confess reminds me more of my old Commando -- actually suits the application with its excellent low end response.

In summing up, I've discovered that the Scrambler is actually more my kind of machine than I thought. It's still a blank canvass, but it can commute, scratch around the hills, mono (with a bit of encouragement) and in all likelihood tackle off-road well enough to keep me happy. Give the Scrambler a go, it might just surprise you too.

TRANSMISSION
Type: Five-speed, constant-mesh
Final drive: Chain

CHASSIS AND RUNNING GEAR
Frame type: Tubular steel cradle
Front suspension: 41mm Kayaba fork, non-adjustable
Rear suspension: Kayaba twin shocks, preload adjustable
Front brake: 310mm disc with twin-piston Nissin caliper
Rear brake: 255mm disc with twin-piston Nissin caliper

DIMENSIONS AND CAPACITIES
Dry weight: 205kg
Seat height: 825mm
Fuel capacity: 16lt

PERFORMANCE
Max power: 58hp (43kW) at 6800rpm
Max torque: 68Nm at 4750rpm