THE REAL DEAL, FOR A STEAL

When Triumph told us they were building a proper, sporty naked for just a nip over seven grand, we thought they were pulling our plonkers. So, is the Trident a proper bike with a little price tag or a great concept strangled by budget?

Idon’t know about you lot, but I absolutely adore the cheap end of the middleweight, naked category. You know, I’m talking your Yamaha MT-07s, Honda CBR650Rs and Kawasaki Z650 type jobbies, all sitting about or below the hundred horsepower mark, those things are insanely fun and incredibly confidence inspiring – when the front wheel is actually on the deck anyway, which isn’t often. But it’s not just my selfish attraction to this budget bruisers, oh no. It’s such an important market, as these are the bikes that gets bums on seats more than any other. Whether it’s someone’s first big bike, a bite of the biking cherry without having to take out a mortgage or a step back into some easy riding, they sell in their thousands. And that’s good news for us sport bike hooligans, as theoretically from then those bums learn the ropes, and move on to bigger and better things (like a supernaked, superbike, or if they’re lucky, a supermodel), and voila… the cycle is complete. Problem was, there’s always been a bit of a hole in Triumph’s range for something that’s properly entry level, so at the risk of feeling left out, they’ve finally built a bridge into their pretty premium higher powered and spec’d examples in the form of the Street and Speed Triples. Oh yes, Triumph have finally joined the party - enter, their new Trident.

And when we say new, we actually mean new. This isn’t just a spoke parts bin special, as both the chassis and engine platform have both been designed specifically for this machine - although expect it to pop in a load of other guises in the next couple of years (yes, we asked, and no, there’s no Daytona, boo). For starters, that 660cc motor sounds proper beefy; Triumph have thrown the kitchen sink at it with new inlet and exhaust cam profiles, crank shaft pistons, bore & stroke… in all honesty the list could go on – there’re a whopping 67 new parts in the engine alone. Sure, the power and torque figures aren’t going be blowing any socks off by any stretch of the imagination, but Triumph did tell us that the Trident will make 90% of its torque all the way from 3,600rpm to 9,750rpm. Nice. They’ve then stuck it in a tubeless steel chassis, and thrown some fairly premium bits its way as well. I’m talking Nissin brakes, Showa pogos, Michelin rubber and even a tasty looking TFT dash, which lets you play around with rider modes and all those other bits, including some proper Bluetooth connectivity if you fancy slinging a few hundred quid extra their way. And you probably wouldn’t mind that so much, because the real beauty of the Triumph is just how small they’ve kept the number after the pound sign – £7,195 in total, and that’s without mentioning their absolutely monstrous PCP and finance deals. I mean, I’ve seen push bikes for sale that cost more than this thing. But the question was, could it still hustle with that legendary Triumph aura and provide all the sh*ts and gigs that a machine in this sector should? On paper it’s a resounding yes, but we wanted to find out for ourselves…

“I’ve got to say, as soon as we got rolling the Trident really did feel like a proper machine.”

When Triumph first sent over their Trident pictures, I really wasn’t sold on the looks; on a sliding scale they’ve definitely moved closer to retro racer than savage supernaked, but I’ve got to say, gleaming under the glorious Spanish sun, it did look much smarter than the pictures gave it credit for. Okay, it’s still not aggressive enough for my personal liking, but it’s not completely awful, and unlike the majority of bikes that are marketed as being budget-conscious, it doesn’t look like it’s been made of cheese – in fact, it got better the closer I got.

Sure, seeing proper branded logos on the pogos and brakes is always cool, but the thing that got me was the finish. Up close and personal, the Trident really did look every bit a proper bit of kit. Everything looked smart, from the aluminium top yoke to the black finish on the suspension, and the fact that they could even throw in some etched Triumph logos like on the tank cap, shouts to me that Triumph certainly aren’t in the business of skimping on style.

Jumping on for the first time, it’s very much the same; I’m only a little’un, but even so the riding position felt instantly comfy. The bars were fairly high and wide for leverage and the pegs were in an almost perfect positon to give both sportiness and comfort, while an adjustable brake lever is a real nice touch. Oh, and even if you’re a shortass you’ll probably still get both feet on the floor. Turning the thing on for the first time brought much of the same feelings as well, with every button exactly where I expected it, feeding into a fairly simple but effective dash, although I’m still unsure why it needs a rain and road mode with this amount of power… I’d much rather had a ’shifter, if there was ever a choice.

Saying that though, it earnt points back with the ease of ditching the traction control; that’s always a big brownie-point earner in my eyes. All jokes aside though, my troubles were forgotten as soon as I fired up the Trident. To hear that saucy triple engine note is always a pleasure, and the Trident didn’t sound far off the Street Trip I had as a ’termer last year, alongside every other Triumph I can remember in fact. A straight through

’system would do absolute wonders as well, if you’re thinking of splashing the cash.

But obviously, you wouldn’t do that without scouring every word of this review, and I’ve got to say, as soon as we got rolling the Trident really did feel like a proper machine. This was my first taste of the new 660cc motor, and cruising through the cobbled roads and little villages towards the motorway, I couldn’t quite believe how user-friendly it was. Just like its bigger brothers, the Trident handled low revs for breakfast, and with so much torque being on offer for so much of the rev range, I barely bothered messing around with gear changes – that new ride-by-wire system would just pull both smoothly and nicely, and pick up as soon as it got into that 3,600rpm sweet spot.

“It even proved itself worthy when we jumped on the motorway for the ride home, offering up a nice little quiet buzz and happiness floating along at about 80mph.”

The chassis offers up much of the same, and for a first big bike it would be absolutely spot on; the thin design, low seat and big leverage on the ’bars mean that U-turns and slow speed manoeuvring were absolutely effortless. To be honest, I was just itching to get scratching properly on some saucy roads, and see what this puppy could really do.

It could’ve gone either way here. Constantly reminding myself of the cash price, I didn’t want to be too harsh in case it was going to be soft and squishy, with wooden brakes and a chassis that felt like rubber. Yet as soon as we hit the thin and winding mountain roads, any negativity disappeared. It was almost like I was sitting on a baby Street Triple.

Considering it was so soft and easy over crappy surfaces and bumps, the thing that got me first was the chassis and pogo mixture, and just how potent it was for changing direction with unparalleled ease; alright, I think if I weighed a chunk more I would’ve run into some problems with the rear end being on the softer side (probably the same if you throw a pillion on), but for me, it felt incredible.

Yeah, it’s not going to be a Daytona, but it’s not trying to be. Even the brakes had a serious amount of bite, with an ABS system that was definitely towards the better end of ones I’ve sampled. As we kept climbing, the roads opened up a bit and even though the Trident is only a nipper in terms of performance, it never felt out of its depth.

Through big, flowing 5th and 6th gear corners it felt insanely stable, while through the dirt, damp patches and even the odd chunks of ice (yeah, really) the chassis and Michelin rubber seemed to just pull grip out absolutely nowhere.

In all honesty, it handled way better than I ever thought I’d be giving it credit for, and when the absolute heavens opened, it didn’t once feel out of control or dangerous on Tenerife’s grip-less tarmac – although even in a monsoon, I still didn’t feel the need to switch maps or into a rain mode. Oh, and those ’pegs can be pretty slippery as well.

Yet the crazy thing was, it still wasn’t even my favourite part. Oh no, you see, that luxury is reserved for all 660 cubic centre metres of engine. Sure, its power figures are pretty miniscule by today’s standards, but with every twist of the wrist it just rode on a wave of torquey, triply goodness.

It wasn’t always this way though, oh no. I’ll never get why, but the route took us over 2000m up Mount Tiede, which meant that when we got to the top, the power was absolutely zapped by the thin air. Honestly, the difference was insane.

I mean, the Trident went from being able to bounce that front wheel up in third (albeit uphill, with a proper hoist) to having to drop the clutch in first. It wasn’t until we got back down into the nice, thick air on the other side that I really started to get a proper idea of the 660’s prowess for power. It’s got a really good amount of go for its size. It even proved itself worthy when we jumped on the motorway for the ride home, offering up a nice little quiet buzz and happiness floating along at about 80mph.

To be honest, stick a fly screen on and you’d be well away, as after a full day’s thrashing, and some motorway mileage, I still felt as fresh as a Daisy, with my ass still intact. What more could I ask for at that price?

“It handled way better than I ever thought I’d be giving it credit for, and when the absolute heavens opened, it didn’t once feel out of control or dangerous...”