Spending a day at Brands Hatch and watching over a dozen Daytona 675 bikes scream round the track all day got me thinking. Mostly it got me thinking, "there's the latest and freshest machine from Triumph; all those guys know what it's like to ride that bike and I don't". Some had even tried riding it in six inches of gravel, although not necessarily intentionally, and certainly not for any substantial distance. I felt experientially impoverished - or in other words, jealous.
A mere two weeks later I found myself with some time on my hands, the promise of reasonable weather and the 'phone number for Bill at Boyers in my mobile. There was only one sensible thing to do: I rang for a test ride. "No problem", said Bill. "I'll be there within the hour", said I. So it was a Tuesday lunchtime under changeable skies that saw me gingerly throwing my leg over the yellow demonstrator bike outside Boyer Racing in the fragrant environs of Plumstead (regulars there will know what I mean). Bill's parting words were "Careful with the tyres, they're semi-slicks". I looked at the tyres - they didn't seem that out of the ordinary. I looked at the £1,000 excess on the temporary insurance form in my pocket. I decided to be careful.
My first impression on the seating position was that it was the design of a yoga expert with a sense of humour. Quickly I reasoned that all 600 sport bikes are likely to share similar dimensions, so I'd better get used to having my knees nearer my hands than felt altogether safe. I would also have to get used to my arse being higher relative to my hands than felt altogether safe. I was surprised that when I bounced on the suspension, it had quite a lot more travel in it both front and rear than I expected, unless that's the final proof that I have turned in to a fat old knacker and have no business on a bike of that refined nature.
Anyway I had better things to do than sit bouncing on a stationary bike worrying about my weight so I gingerly pulled away, grateful for the fact that the clutch feel was similar to my Speed Triple. For the next three hours I got a good mixture of traffic conditions including dead-slow-or-stop on one hand (thanks to plenty of local road works), and M20-since-it's-been-resurfaced on the other (thanks to, er... the Highways Agency I suppose). Having owned an original Speed Triple with clip-on bars, I was not expecting the degree of arm ache that the 675 generated at slower speeds. I suppose losing a stone or two would help that. Anyway the Speed Triple 900 did not have the kind of bum-in-air seating position of the 675, particularly with the seat on mine missing a good 50% of the original padding, due to one of the previous owners being a serious short-arse. On the subject of which, I was amused to realise that in slow traffic when the engine is hot, there is a notable source of heat both from the radiator fan, and from the under-seat exhaust. I thought I knew what a crumpet felt like in a thick-and-thin toaster.
Once on the open road over 60 m.p.h. however, everything came together and I could concentrate on the engine response. I was familiar with the descriptions of "revvy 600s" but never having actually ridden one, it took some time to appreciate how the 675 was quite happy to potter along in a high gear at 4,000 to 5,000 revs and then pull away without fuss. I soon realised that all the serious stuff happened above 8,000 r.p.m., when the exhaust note from the Triumph "off-road" can acquired a meaner tone and the scenery started to fly past rather more rapidly. I had a mental image of my (hitherto unsullied) driving licence being fed into a paper shredder.
I'd like to be able to claim that I found the opportunity to recreate every bend and incline of Brands Hatch at various locations around the North Kent area, but I'd be fibbing. How the bike performs on a track is still a mystery to me but I was more than impressed with how it goes on the road.
With the weather threatening to turn wet, I returned to Boyer Racing in mid-afternoon only to find the person of Mr Chris Biggs loitering on the premises and chatting to Bill. I handed back the keys and exchanged pleasantries before making off with my wallet still intact. Getting back on my Speed Triple was a strange experience - all of a sudden the light, nippy bike I was used to (at least compared with my other rides) had turned into a big, wide, upright thing with handlebars up at around chest height - or so it felt for a few miles.
So at least I have had a ride on a 675, the youngest of Triumph's models, but would I enjoy owning one full-time? I'm not sure for now. It was certainly good to broaden my experience of different bikes; amazingly perhaps, I've yet to get on a four cylinder machine, having gone straight from learner singles and twins on the DAS course to the first of three Hinckley Triples. Perhaps Colin would lend me his Fireblade for my next track day? In the interests of personal growth of course!