Yankee cafay. Too strong a brew for British taste?
Out for a sunny Sunday morning ride on a snooker-table smooth back road, lined with hedges, stone walls and barbed wire fences, the characteristics that define a Triton are felt through the seat of the pants.
The road meanders through mile after mile of lush green countryside.
The speed limit sign is only a suggestion on this nigh on bend-perfect biking road. For this is where the handling capability and mid-range power of a well-sorted classic bike can be thoroughly explored and enjoyed.
Not a car, camera or copper in sight. Mile after mile.
Village after village. Is this a ride out in the English countryside of the 1930s before the leafy highways and byways became loved too much by the masses?
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