{"id":213221,"date":"2023-11-04T12:00:35","date_gmt":"2023-11-04T10:00:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.motorprosa.com\/?p=213221"},"modified":"2024-03-20T10:26:51","modified_gmt":"2024-03-20T08:26:51","slug":"triumph-daytona-t595-the-powerhouse","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.motorprosa.com\/en\/triumph-daytona-t595-the-powerhouse\/","title":{"rendered":"Triumph Daytona T595 – The powerhouse"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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The story of a short ride on the Triumph Daytona T595. Unlike my own Daytonas, this one had the infamous Race Can \u2013 and this took the riding experience to the next level. Come along and go deaf!<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Motorprosa-Pen\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Before you read, please note<\/strong>: this post was translated with the help of Deepl<\/a>.
If you find any errors \u2013 please have fun first and then give me a hint.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally: The long-awaited SuperComp KTM<\/a> I ordered at the end of 2001 was delivered \u2013 and registered on my birthday. How cool! It was still parked in Bolzano, about 80 kilometres from home, and the friendly KTM dealer was eagerly awaiting the return of my LC4 640, which I had traded in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But – nothing cool without a catch: the insurance on the 640 KTM was still valid until midnight, with no alternative. Consequence: I couldn’t take delivery of the new bike on the same day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While I was still looking for a solution, an order came in for a courier ride with urgent documents to Bolzano: Deadline 5.00 pm. It was already 3.40 pm \u2026 So I found myself on my trusty 640 for the last ride, aggressively weaving between cars to somehow make the deadline. And of course: to visit my KTM dealer afterwards. Maybe there was a solution after all. I arrived at the shop drenched in sweat – and there it was:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My KTM
LC4 625 SCSM<\/h2>\n\n\n\n
\"The

The KTM 625 LC4 SCSM \u2013 my companion in madness at the time<\/h3><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Soiled from top to bottom. The aluminium swingarm smeared with chain grease. Tyres worn to the edge. A puddle of red fork oil on the front wheel. Surely this can’t be true? I stood in front of it with maximum confusion, and my confusion became even greater when the junior mechanic left a greasy mark on the seat cover with his black, oily fingers. Is everyone here crazy?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The boss’s eyes spoke words: \u201cYou want to pick up your SC today?\u201d Before I could say anything, he added: \u201cWait, I’ll push it out.\u201d The shockingly filthy, oil-pissing SC wasn’t mine at all – it just had a very similar number plate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So it was actually delivered. And actually authorised. It really existed, and it existed for me. No, the boss didn’t want to make me wait until midnight, until the new licence was valid – after a bit of conversation, he handed me an ignition key for the motorbike that was supposed to take me home. And this ignition key looked very familiar to me. It belonged to a<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Triumph Daytona T595
with Race Can<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Connoisseurs will click their tongues. Race Can means power, sound and emotion. It no longer mattered that the Daytona – as I was used to – didn’t start. The fact that it only ran on one or maybe two cylinders when cold – no problem. Never mind that the feeling on the brake lever was reminiscent of a sponge. This motorbike was simply I-want-to-celebrate-it-right-now<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"With

With the Triumph Daytona T595 in the realm of curves<\/h3><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

A ceremony for the senses: the engine shook unevenly beneath me and regularly let me down when I stopped. It came to a standstill at every traffic light, with a harsh rumble when restarting. But the sound that the three-cylinder engine pumped out of the open carbon pipe was simply thrilling. My soft parts got hotter at every red light \u2013 I kept the revs at 3,000 rpm to prevent them from permanently dying. It was clear that the three arsonists in the aluminium frame were heating up massively.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A ceremony
of madness <\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Then it started to rain \u2013 the way it always rains in Bolzano: A downpour instantly flooded everything. And I grinned under my helmet as I rode through the urban canyons of the city, enjoying the roar of the Triumph, always somehow catching the constantly erupting rear wheel. I remembered with pleasure the first ride on my own T595.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It boiled beneath me, under intense pressure, with its fire accelerating silencer. Its sound swept the cars off the road, its power permanently overtaxed the rear tyre in the wet. There it was again, the feeling of absolutely effortless acceleration.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I let the revs plummet, only to chase them back into the limiter when overtaking. When I was column-hopping, I was happy to give it plenty of intermediate throttle; when surfing the torque wave, the threatening rumble of the engine changed to an ecstatic scream from 5,000 rpm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Scream,

Scream, you bastard! The Race Can on the Triumph Daytona T595<\/h3><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I loved this being shot forward with this incredibly sick roar – from a hammer engine that was only allowed to cool down again at the Reschen Pass. Even if nothing else about this Triumph had sent out \u201cwant-to-have\u201d signals \u2013 THIS engine and THIS thrust would have been reason enough to get a Daytona again. The chassis was a bit of a mess, demanding a lot of power to turn in corners, toothless brakes, extremely annoying constant jolting and harsh vibrations – but if I hadn’t ridden this Daytona that day, I wouldn’t have experienced something great.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A motorcycle
with character<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

That day, I realised what is meant by \u201ccharacter\u201d when talking about motorbikes. There was only one sharper three-cylinder in my motorcycling career: the Benelli Tornado RS. But that’s another story.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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