When I haven’t been doing that, I’ve been working on grandiose plans to go riding to far and away places – like the Lemmings Motorcycle Club (motto: death before courtesy) bike tour of north Vietnam in January, or the ride across to Albany (WA) in March, and even the Lemmings tour of Scotland in 2011. Actually, I’m not sure I can afford to be a member of this club any longer…

Anyway, what brought this theme to mind was a squirt out into the nether regions of Melbourne on Trevor, the 1974 T150 Triumph.

Of course it had busted a clutch cable from the previous ride, though I’m staggered at the memory that it chose to do so as I was returning home, in the driveway. So I had to push it the last few metres into the shed. And yes, I did go and buy a lottery ticket…

Something that classic bike folk will occasionally inflict on you is their theory on the essential beauty in the simplicity of their chosen steed’s design. What a load of poppycock. I can assure you that swapping a T150 cable is considerably more fiddly than on most Japanese bikes I’ve tackled over the years.

We had the usual removal of the fuel tank (five bolts), then the mechanism cover (three more) and then we were confronted with two more bolts holding in a suspiciously complex little rotating set-up, via a couple of spring plates. Behind that were three little ball bearings which required new grease and a little juggling to get back in place. Oh and then there was the little steel sleeve I had to find and remove because the replacement cable had a slightly larger engagement head.

It was okay, but an unnecessarily fiddly job. Nevertheless I was delighted to discover the clutch drag which had been there since I bought the bike was gone, and the shift consequently had a much sweeter action.

This Trident was one that was recommended to me by Phil Pilgrim of Union Jack Motorcycles fame, and has turned out to be a solid choice. The powerplant had done few miles on a no-expense-spared rebuild, while I had a Trispark ignition added in the interests of reliability and starting ease.

Despite not having been ridden for several weeks, it started first kick all day and didn’t miss a beat. Well, that’s not quite true – it has a disconcerting habit of mysteriously missing once in a long while and recovering immediately. Not enough to really slow the bike, just enough to slightly alarm the rider. Over time I’ve had to accept it as one of the machine’s little quirks, and as something that is probably never going to be diagnosed.

On to the ride: it was an easy half-hour jaunt into the countryside at the St Andrews pub for a beer and a chat with a few friends. A really simple thing to do that didn’t carve up the weekend’s precious days but added immensely to their enjoyment.

It was one of those classic Spring riding days – sunny, mild, flowers, birds, rampant R1s and Harleys, all that sort of thing.

I wandered home feeling terrific. The Trident is nothing special in the handling or performance, or even comfort, departments, but is an amiable enough companion. And getting out for a head-clearing ride is the best possible therapy after a week laboring at the proverbial salt mine. If you haven’t done it for a while, it’s well worth a try, and more fun than a psychiatrist…

(Post script: of course no classic bike worth its salt is going to let you have a simple and easy day out, uninjured. While the Trident performed flawlessly, it managed to take a bite out of my right ankle during one of the kick-starts. Didn't think much of it at the time -- okay, another bruise -- but of course paid for it the next day with a limp and sore purple-coloured leg. No matter, it was worth it...)

Email: guy.allen@traderclassifieds.com.au