Who wants respect? Neil G. gets lusty
with the all new Triumph Daytona 675R
EVEN HERE, in Spain, I can’t escape figure
skating, it’s not that I doubt the skill of figure skaters, it's just that the
incongruity of faux-dancing butted up against supercharged twirling at
power-drill speeds hardly qualifies it as an art. (And judging for artistic
merit means it isn’t a sport, either. Could you imagine a motorcycle race where
the winner was bumped to 6th place because of an infringement in form?) But,
oddity of oddities, sport-bikes have something to do with figure skating,
according to Triumph.
Triumph
Daytona 675R
A spinning figure skater, with arms fully
extended and the mass spread wide, rotates slowly. But when arms are brought in
toward the body (and with no change in total mass) they spin faster. And that,
says Triumph, is why you want to centralize mass on a motorcycle: "[A
motorcycle] arrives at a corner facing one direction and must come out of that
corner facing another direction. The forces needed to turn it around come
through the tires pushing against the road. When the bike is easier to turn,
more grip is available for higher lean angles and harder cornering.” That's as
good an explanation of mass centralization as I've heard.
The modern sport-bike has reached such
stratospheric levels of refinement that the four years of development that went
into this completely new machine has netted only minor numerical changes: two
more horsepower (to 126), a smidgen more torque (to 55 Ib-ft) and one less
kilogram (down to 184 kg). This will certainly cause the specification-obsessed
(you know who you are) to be gravely disappointed. No double-digit horsepower
jumps, no sophisticated electronics, and no adoption of hitherto unknown
technology. Despite this, the Daytona 675R feels like an entirely different,
considerably better motorcycle than the 675R it replaces.
The original Daytona 675 was a motorcycle I
wanted to love. Instead it was a motorcycle I liked. If it was a girl, and I
was a high-school student, I’d have wanted to study together and discuss my
unhealthy obsession with the novel Catch 22. But I wouldn’t have wanted to rip
her knickers off. I found it hard to articulate exactly why this was so,
because on so many levels the bike was brilliant. The engine was
torque-infused, charismatic, and with just the perfect amount of power: enough
to thrill but not so overpowered that it gave you the cold sweats. And the
price was good. And it looked good. And modern Triumphs are faintly exotic and
workmanlike at the same time. So why, then, my reticence?
There's
no question that the 675R belongs on the track, but improvements to power and
handling were meant to make it a better street bike as well and they do.
It was only when I rode the old model
back-to-back against Suzuki’s GSX-R750 on a racetrack that I began to
understand why. Where the Suzuki was effortlessly quick through corners, the
Triumph required more work and never gave the same degree of reassuring
feedback as the Suzuki. The Triumph sounded better and its firmly sprung
suspension was more racetrack ready, but the GSX-R was simply easier to go
faster on, and this was a view echoed by our other testers that day that ranged
in skill from an ex-pro to a novice at his first track day.
On the new bike the old criticisms are no
longer valid it's chuck-able, gives outstanding feedback, and has an even more
lusty personality. In fact, it’s worthy of a good romp back in my pit-side VW
camper. How did Triumph do it? Think back to that twirling figure skater. The
old bike’s under seat exhaust system was canned and in its place is a
ubiquitous under-engine exhaust. The muffler looks a little generic, but that
change was the most significant in a campaign to centralize the mass and move
the weight toward the front of the machine. Triumph found that these changes
improved machine stability to the point where the steering geometry could be
sharpened (one degree less rake, 1.9 mm less trail) and the wheelbase
shortened, which increased agility. Incorporated into the new frame is a
passageway through the headstock to better pressurize the air-box.
You could hardly slot into that new frame
an old engine, so an all-new mill was developed. At the behest of racing teams,
raising the rev ceiling to extend the surge of power became a priority. The
bore was hogged out two millimeters (to 76 mm) and the stroke slashed 2.7 mm
(to 49.6 mm) so that the search for revs wouldn't come at the expense of
excessive piston speeds. But more revs place additional stresses on
reciprocating parts and further challenge an engine's architecture to restrain
those flailing masses. To address the former, the intake valves didn't gain
diameter, but the material was upgraded from steel to titanium. An interesting
footnote is that the freakish lightness of titanium allowed material to be
added to the back of the valve to create a humped-back shape that better allows
the air-fuel mixture to slither past on its way into the combustion chamber.
The old engine employed the cylinders cast in unison with the upper crankcase
half but that’s been changed to a separate cylinder and crankcase design
(stronger, we're told) that has also jettisoned the old engine's cylinder
liners for a Nicasil coating applied directly on the bores. Aside from the
modest gains in horsepower and torque, the engine gains the ability to rev 500
rpm higher, to a redline of 14, 4-00.
Red
means run, says Neil Young ("Powder-finger"), and according to Neil
Graham, the 675R's red wheel stripes signify noteworthy upgrades, though a bore
& stroke change, titanium valves, and a shot of Nicasil help boost the
tempo on both models.
A feature of the $14,599 675R that we ride
over the base $12,599 675 is the fitment of ABS. (Oh hell, while we're at it
I'll run over the differences between the two bikes: in addition to ABS, the R
has Ohlins suspension vs. the base model’s KYB components, a quick shifter,
Brembo Monobloc calipers in place of Nissin units and carbon fiber bits and
bobs. Oh, and red pinstripes on the wheels)
With a designated setting for track use
that allows the rear wheel to be slid into corners (if you’re worthy) the
circuit mode of the ABS also allows late intervention on sticky pavement and,
in the carefully chosen words of the press kit, the ability to "prevent
wheel lock-up when hitting a wet patch or after misjudging a corner when
braking on a slippery surface such as grass.” In other words, when you’re
screaming/crying in your helmet and half-way to the wall after misjudging
Mosport’s turn two you have a better chance of keeping upright. I also learned
(by reading, thankfully, and not by experience) that ‘late intervention on sticky
pavement" means you can, if you're foolish enough (I am) flip the bike
onto its nose in circuit mode if you break with unrestrained furor. Duly noted.
In regular ABS mode, of course, it's like any standard street-biased system.
Large-scale
changes to the 675's engine boost power and redline, but Ohlins suspension and
muffler relocation contribute to better handling.
With the 3.5-mile Cartagena circuit
committed to memory, the track sessions after lunch were absolute joy. The
Daytona instilled in me a confidence that I could never find in the old bike.
Aiding this pilgrim's progress was the stellar quick shifter, a fitment on a
motorcycle that I once thought frivolous but that I've come to appreciate as
essential. The quick shifter's genius is that when it's time to shift up it
isn't necessary to back off the throttle to grab the next cog. Just hook your
toe under the lever and lift. A sensor momentarily cuts the ignition to
facilitate the gear change and then fires the ignition back up once the change
has been made. In practice it’s nearly imperceptible, and the advantage is that
the bike's forward progress isn't impeded. The Daytona's system goes one better
and reinstates the cylinders one at a time after the gear change. This makes it
doubly smooth, and, unlike many quick shifters that can be jerky at anything
less than full throttle, the Triumph system happily works at realistic road
speeds.
With 20-something U.S. road tester Troy
Siahaan hot on my tail, I push hard during the last session of the day and pull
a small gap on him. The Pirellis are nearly pooched and the front can be felt
to push entering corners and the rear to slide at the exit. But despite the
lack of traction control (Triumph brass point to the limited resources of a
small company to explain why the 675 is without this season's most flattering
accessory) the bike's movement is so predictable that I’m not alarmed, that is
until I turn a double-apex corner into an 11 -apex disaster that had Troy
asking me post session if I’d lost my mind. My mind was intact but I was
knackered and called it a day. A very, very good day, on an absolute cracker of
a bike.
