Shafts of late evening sunlight scatter like strobes through a great arch of birch branches reaching overhead, enclosing the arrow-straight road in a clawed tunnel. I frown, dazzled by the flickering contrast. We're ten hours into the ride, lost in that beautiful, mesmeric zone of furrowed concentration where the Triumph's haptic feedback – suspension, engine response, tyre grip, steering – is entirely absorbed into the rider's perception of the world.
The road is bumpy and ill-kempt, ripples and potholes shuddering through the bike – and, thoughts drifting in the flashing daylight, my imagination plays tricks. For a moment this isn't 2025; it's 120 years earlier in 1905, right back in the formative years of motorcycling. And the Triumph isn't a brand-new Tiger Sport 800, it's the very first all-Triumph motorcycle:…