Miles: 150 miles of city cruising.
Mods: Fuel, silly sunglasses, grin
Contact: www.triumphmotorcycles.co.uk
The ol’ 675 has had a pretty quiet month in all honesty, seemingly eclipsed by the fleet of super-exclusive special edition 1000s we’ve been testing for you. But you know what, sat outside DMP’s workshop, I think the Daytona R looks every bit as desirable as the Panigale R, despite costing less than half as much. Believe it or not, after a couple of weeks riding the special editions, I was actually starting to miss the lil’ Trumpy. It strikes a great balance between useable power, excitement and agility. Shit, I read that last sentence back and realized I sound like a marketing robot, filling the pages of brochures with meaningless schpiel. But that description still stands. The 675cc triple manages to give you enough power to keep you excited, but not so much that it becomes the focus of every straight. Not too much, not too little. Obviously riding a 195bhp bike is more exhilarating, but you don’t get to savour the ride in the same way you do on this. So with an engine that doesn’t dominate the riding position, you’re left to appreciate the chassis, and what a chassis this has. Have you ever gone back, after years of riding big bikes, and had a spin on a half decent sports 125? Sure they’re gutless, but that feeling of being able to muscle it around and put it anywhere you want is great right? Confidence. That’s the key and when a bike feels light and agile, your confidence goes up and your riding feels better and better. Obviously the 675 is way heavier than a sports 125, but compared to, say, a Honda Fireblade, it feels light as a feather. Not just in outright weight, but in the way it turns, darting around at your command, never leaving you hauling it into a turn to make the apex. And that, my friends, gives you serious confidence to attack every road you can find like you did when you first got your bike license. Last month may have been quiet, but the sun is out, the Triumph is back in my garage and Sunday mornings are no longer safe from the triple’s howl. Knee down before brekkie? Yes please.
So bloody fast the mirrors fell off.
Pics: Lloyd Horgan/MSV