Sal Paradise
Hooligan
Triumph'sLastdays@Meriden
The bus let me off near the main gate of the plant, a long, reddish-brown, two-story building with a few cars parked in the lot and “Triumph Engineering Company” in blue block lettering across the front. I snapped a couple of frames on my old Nikon F and hesitated, unsure if the letter I’d written to managing director Bob Lindsay had arrived. What kind of reception I’d get would likely depend on my charm, seldom very dependable at the best of times, and not at all helped by jet lag from a flight overseas in steerage and a virulent argument with a BritRail conductor on the way to Coventry.
In the event, I was met by an affable, robust man in a gray suit sporting a handlebar moustache that utterly failed to hide a disarming smile. He was Peter Britton, sales director, and no, my letter, with its accompanying introduction from one of Triumph’s earliest Canadian dealers, hadn’t arrived. He glanced cursorily at my press credentials, peered a little closer at my travel-battered camera gear and rumpled appearance, did something of a mental shrug, and said he’d be happy to show me around.
Along the way, we discussed the Co-op. I listened to the words and tried to search out the meaning behind them. I heard much hope for the future and an undertone of sorrow for those who had gone. Some 300 of the remaining workers had accepted voluntary layoff not long before, he said. The 100 left, struggling to keep Edward Turner’s venerable engine design alive, were those who could do two, three or more jobs.
Read more: http://www.motorcycleclassics.com/c...h-last-days-meriden.aspx?page=1#ixzz1kzdjqJLH
The bus let me off near the main gate of the plant, a long, reddish-brown, two-story building with a few cars parked in the lot and “Triumph Engineering Company” in blue block lettering across the front. I snapped a couple of frames on my old Nikon F and hesitated, unsure if the letter I’d written to managing director Bob Lindsay had arrived. What kind of reception I’d get would likely depend on my charm, seldom very dependable at the best of times, and not at all helped by jet lag from a flight overseas in steerage and a virulent argument with a BritRail conductor on the way to Coventry.
In the event, I was met by an affable, robust man in a gray suit sporting a handlebar moustache that utterly failed to hide a disarming smile. He was Peter Britton, sales director, and no, my letter, with its accompanying introduction from one of Triumph’s earliest Canadian dealers, hadn’t arrived. He glanced cursorily at my press credentials, peered a little closer at my travel-battered camera gear and rumpled appearance, did something of a mental shrug, and said he’d be happy to show me around.
Along the way, we discussed the Co-op. I listened to the words and tried to search out the meaning behind them. I heard much hope for the future and an undertone of sorrow for those who had gone. Some 300 of the remaining workers had accepted voluntary layoff not long before, he said. The 100 left, struggling to keep Edward Turner’s venerable engine design alive, were those who could do two, three or more jobs.
Read more: http://www.motorcycleclassics.com/c...h-last-days-meriden.aspx?page=1#ixzz1kzdjqJLH
