October 2024
I’d been on the hunt for a replacement for Vera, my trusty Honda VFR 800, for a few months. Uncharacteristically, I was taking my time—waiting for that magical moment when the bike would appear like a vision sent from the motorcycle gods. And, lo and behold, it finally happened! While browsing the dangerously addictive ukgser.com forum (you know, just for a “quick look”), I stumbled upon a For Sale ad that had me hooked faster than you can say “rev limiter.” I’ve always had a soft spot for Triumph Sprint STs—I mean, I’ve owned two of the 955cc models, so you could say it’s a bit of a love affair. But I’d been dreaming of the newer 1050cc version for a while now, and here it was, practically winking at me through the screen.
After a quick message to the seller, which felt like a scene from a rom-com with all the back-and-forth messaging, I finally agreed to make the 30-mile trek north to check out the bike. When I arrived, it was love at first sight—like a scene out of a motorcycle-themed fairy tale! This bike looked so stunning that even brand new showroom models might have shed a tear of jealousy. Seriously, it was a massive credit to its owner, who clearly had a talent for motorcycle pampering.
I think the seller could smell my smitten state from a mile away, and after a bit of negotiation (read: my best puppy dog eyes), we struck a deal, and just like that, I was the proud new owner!
The 50-mile ride home was everything I had dreamed it would be. The bike felt like an extension of my very soul—light and nimble, especially after wrestling my R1200GS. And that 1050cc engine? Pure magic! I might have even let out a little giggle of joy.
May 2025
Clifford the Big Red Triumph has left the building!
After some deep soul-searching (and a quick look at my mileage spreadsheet—don’t judge), I realised my mighty Triumph Sprint ST 1050 had basically become a very expensive garage ornament. So, I thought I’d test the waters to see if anyone fancied giving him a new home.
Unfortunately—and I say this with love and mild regret—everyone wanted him. The first guy to show up basically threw money at me and rode off into the sunset like some kind of two-wheeled cowboy.
It was a bittersweet farewell. Sad to see Clifford go… but then I remembered: in 7 whole months, I only managed 92 miles. That’s barely enough to warm the tyres—I’ve walked further to the fridge.
