FRANKLY WE WERE SHOCKED.
At Mark Wilsmore. Talk about death warmed up. He'd been in Austria at the Tridays Event and had narrowly missed being drowned or something in the worst floods for 15 years. Or was it 50? Either way, he'd had no quality sleep for X number of days and had jetted back home and rushed from the airport just in time (give or take a couple of hours) to make the Ace Cafe Triton and Cafe Racer Review (28.6.09).
It was touch and go for a while there. But finally he put in an appearance and pressed some flesh—and practically
fell asleep in the vertical position.
But you gotta expect these tribulations when you're the head honcho at the Ace Cafe—the numero uno hot spot for men and women of a certain age who've got nothing better to do with a Sunday afternoon than muck about with motorsickles. You've gotta expect to be in two places at once. You gotta expect to go days—or weeks even—without shuteye.
Face it, Mark.
England needs you.
Get over it.
And what a turnout. They came from near, and they from afar. One guy even motored all the way from Cumbria just to twang his thang with the elite of cafe society (and three hundred plus miles of the M1 and M6 shows a heap of dedication—and is one hell of a way to spend half your weekend).
But was it worth it?
Another satisfied customer.
At Sump, we were so impressed with the turnout and the quality of the hardware that we couldn't decide which bike to aim the camera at. That vibrant Vincent? That tempestuous Triumph? That nubile Norton? That boss BSA?
In the end, we just shot everything that moved, or didn't move, and decided to let the computer sort it out while we went down the pub.
Anyway, this is the result: Sump's wall to wall Cafe Racer and Triton Review reviewed.
We're gonna go easy on the words from here on because the pictures can mostly speak for themselves. But while you're flicking through the following pages, check out the detail; those little things that make or break a bike. That's the theme of this photoshoot. Detail.
If you're hankering to build a cafe racer of your own (and who isn't?), you might consider the Hinckley Bonnie which has surely come of age. These days, there are quite a few of them cafe'd up and strutting their stuff, and—as much as it pains us to admit it—they're looking as good as Meriden Triumph powered Tritons. Almost.
Meanwhile, click on the
Esso Man. He's waiting for the gentle caress of your mouse and will take you to the next part of this gripping adventure in steel, ally and rubber.