My body fit like an awkward Play-Doh mold into Ryanair’s economy-class seat. But that’s not why I was unusually irritable. “I’m going to ride the new Triumph Trident 660 in Alicante. I love this. What’s wrong with me?” I quietly said with hard-stop punctuation. For the first time since I took this job, I felt jealous.
The 660 is Triumph’s entry to the Trident family. While that’s strictly true, the more I gorged on the details of what its 2026 update entailed, the more jealous I became. This model is positioned as someone's first big bike, but as I read the spec sheet, I felt like removing the “first” from that statement. Somewhere between digesting the stats and putting myself in the shoes of who’d buy this bike, I became lost in the memory of my first big bike.
No rider aids, 69 hp, 46 lb-ft of torque, in a 417-pound package (wet). Yes. The venerable Suzuki SV650—vintage 2001. I didn’t outgrow it, not even close. I sold it because I wanted to experience what other bikes had to offer. The funny thing is, Suzuki still sells the SV650, and it’s not that different from the one I owned.
You could pick up a new SV650 today for $8,149. But for $8,995, you could get a new Trident 660, which is objectively so much better in every way. You can basically have what people like me had 25 years ago, or a bike that’s so far ahead that it’s almost not comparable, or nearly feels like it should be in a different class—that was the crux of my jealousy.
If you can afford a new Trident 660 and get one as your first big bike, I’ll be happier for you than I am jealous. But, unfortunately, you might feel like you’re getting the short end of the stick, and I’ll explain why at the end.
An Engine For Life
The vast majority of Triumph’s efforts went to updating the inline 3-cylinder 660cc powerplant for 2026. It now spits out 94 hp, which is 17% more than the 2025 model and, if you’re not in the know, might seem like a random and massive jump. It’s not random.
Triumph is milking every available horsepower, while still ensuring that the Trident 660 is restrictable for the A2 license category in Europe, as you can’t restrict a bike to 47 hp if it makes more than double that as standard. It’s not just horsepower; the Trident now makes 50.2 lb-ft of torque, too—look up the first-generation Street Triple 675 numbers and prepare to question what we’re willing to accept as first big-bike torque.
On the roads around Alicante, which almost seemed designed to exploit exactly this much power, I lost all perception of who this bike was made for.
Below 3,000 rpm, you could be fooled into thinking you were riding a well-engineered low-capacity motorcycle. The pickup from idle to three grand never made my heart rate jump unexpectedly, which is what you want when you’re trying to get to work or college, or just survive in a city. But once I went over 3,000 rpm, the Trident 660 issued a wake-up call, and it’s one of the few I’ve received with a smile.
In classic Triumph triple fashion, you just have torque. Everywhere I looked for power between 3,000-12,000 rpm, the Trident had an answer, and that’s because it makes 80% of its peak 50.2 lb-ft of torque between these numbers. But the flatness of the curve wasn’t boring because the engine has a distinct character throughout the rev range.
The powerplant comes alive at 5,000 rpm, which is when I began to forget this was intended to be a “first big bike”, as Triumph staff had told me the previous night. By peak torque output at 8,250 rpm, my mind was blank, and my teeth showing through what must’ve been a cheeky smile, because I didn’t expect such a rush of power, and the most satisfying part was still to come.
Trident 660’s new redline is 12,650 rpm, 20% higher than the previous year, and it’s more than happy to live on the overrun. As I eked ever closer to the limiter, the bike became even more alive and responsive. Nearing peak horsepower at 11,250 rpm, the engine rewarded me with a fizzy, energetic howl and was still pulling, but I never felt like things were getting out of hand. The inline-triple powerplant offers a refined ride, but that doesn’t equate to boring, quite the opposite.
The Trident doesn’t force you to have fun in a singular area of the powerband; it allows you to have fun almost everywhere. The power isn’t peaky, but there’s a definite peak, and you shouldn't worry about accidental torque-induced power wheelies, but there’s enough pull to make sure it’s in the back of your mind. For such a relatively small engine, it’s incredibly dynamic.
The engine fell short of scaring me, but into the perfect spot for making me stupidly happy and playful, while still earning my full respect. That said, if it’s your first big bike, this power probably should scare you, at least for a while. If not, you should get yourself checked out. All the power, character, and grin-inducing, rev-limit-bouncing fun doesn’t come at the sacrifice of practicality.
By the time we hit the short highway stint back to the hotel, I was happy to relax and lock in sixth, which essentially acts as an overdrive gear. The engine simply felt happy, I couldn’t detect any off-putting vibrations at 60 mph, butI’d like a longer highway ride to feel this out a bit more.
From the city to the mountain roads and highway, the Trident’s 660cc inline-triple had answers for every question I asked of it. This model is positioned as an option for your first big bike, but its engine is one you could keep for life, and use regardless of what direction your life takes. The powerplant is on the spicy side of being the consummate all-rounder, and the rest of the motorcycle follows suit.
What Can’t It Do?
As soon as I sat on the Trident, the Triumph’s intention of making it an all-rounder was clear. Nothing is supposed to be anywhere on a motorcycle per se, but with that said, everything on the Trident 660 feels like it’s where it’s supposed to be. The bike is a roadster, but technically so is a Triumph Street Triple Moto2 Edition and a Royal Enfield Interceptor 650. The Trident’s ergonomics sit nicely between the extremes in this category, as an all-rounder should.
‘At ease’ is how I’d best describe my ride on the sometimes tight, bumpy, and busy streets in the villages, towns, and city during the press ride. The bike feels compact, in a good way. It’s nimble, and the upright(ish) stance gave me full confidence navigating urban environments. And when the things in my peripheral vision changed from buildings to mountainside drops, I felt the same familiar ease.
The riding ergonomics put me over the front end enough to feel what it was doing when I started exploring grip levels, but never so much that my wrists suffered. Nothing suffered—I couldn’t point to any joint or bum pain as a result of the ride. OK, the riding position felt more at home in an urban environment, but not by much. I’d argue this is how an all-rounder should feel.
The footpegs are high enough that I wasn’t worried about clearance during the ride, but apart from that, the position didn’t encourage me to feel overly sporty. Triumph had something up its sleeve for this, though, and added an extra 20 mm of width to the handlebars, meaning I had the leverage to give the Trident some extra encouragement through the corners.
The 41 mm non-adjustable Showa forks soaked up the first speed bump with such ease that I felt ashamed for how much I tensed beforehand. Likewise, the rear shock, which now features rebound adjustment as well as preload, felt perfectly suited to even the worst Spanish village roads. But an all-rounder is usually a story of trade-offs.
As I grew more comfortable on the Trident, the suspension started to feel a tad soft. The way the bike ate the speed bumps like a minor undulation in the road meant it wound up being a bit soft when I pushed through some of the faster sections of the twisties. Finding the limit of the suspension won’t be an issue for Triumph’s target audience, but it might be something to consider if an experienced canyon carver is thinking of making this their one-bike garage.
If anything, I only wound up pushing the Trident 660 so hard because the frame makes for such an engaging, confidence-inspiring ride and the engine is a bloody peach. The bike was so enjoyable and, in some areas, overly capable that my natural instinct was to push harder, rev higher, and get closer to the asphalt. That’s what led me to find my only significant gripe with the bike—its brakes.
From the adjustable lever, down the steel braided lines to the 2-piston Nissin calipers biting into dual 310 mm discs, I felt a good connection. Unfortunately, the connection often relayed to me that I needed to pull significantly harder on the lever if I wanted to slow down enough. Again, this issue was probably highlighted as a consequence of the bike being almost overly capable in other areas, but it remains a gripe for good reason.
At 94 hp, the Trident 660 is 17% more powerful than the previous model. The bike is properly quick. Unfortunately, it is verging on big-bike power but using first-bike brakes. If it’s your first time seeing how quickly nearly 100 hp turns the world around you into a blur, good brakes become extremely important. I’d love to see what just upgrading the brake pads could do for the Trident.
To call the engine an all-rounder is an understatement; to describe the riding position as such is on point, and the tech package included only gives more credibility to this status. And I don’t mean this is an all-rounder for a first big bike, it’s just an all-rounder. Yes, I’m still jealous.
Just the Right Level of Tech
It’s a refreshing feeling to review a bike that has just the right level of tech and features. What I mean by “just the right level” is features that you actually want when you ride the bike as intended by the manufacturer. I used all three riding modes—Rain, Road, and Sport—, the cruise control, and on more than one road snake, I took advantage of the lean-sensitive traction control.
I usually try to induce TC activation when reviewing a bike, but that wasn’t how it went down on the Trident 660—it did its job and saved my ass when I needed it. I was in the least intrusive TC setting of three levels and giddily accelerating out of a corner when the rear spun up a little too much before the rider aid kicked in. I wish I could blame the fueling, but it’s so spot on that my blunder(s) were totally down to rider error. The lean, lean-sensitive ABS also kicked in when I was trying to be a bit of a goon, as it should.
Riders dealing with nearly 100 hp on the road for the first time don’t need to mess around with nine-level TC or engine braking control. Triumph fitted just the right level of rider aids and electronics on the Trident, but they threw in a little something extra, which I won’t complain about.
Triumph’s bi-directional Quick Assist quickshifter comes as standard on the 2026 Trident 660 and, my God, is it something to write home about. This system makes it so enjoyable to shift gears that I’d say it was a major factor in helping me get to know the engine characteristics so well.
Some quickshifters require you to get to know them and how they like to be used, but I found myself almost trying to catch out the Trident’s and, apart from a snatchy downshift while I was accelerating, I couldn’t. Correct, you can downshift while accelerating and upshift while decelerating, which still blows me away as much as when I first experienced it on the Yamaha MT-09.
Generally speaking, I don’t think most riders on the road need more than the Trident 660 offers. The bike even has one-touch cruise control as standard, which is a rarity in this class and at this price point. This model is so good that it’s frustrating because I think most U.S. riders will walk straight past it.
Who’s Really Jealous?
To preface what I’m about to say, I’ll tell you that I already believe the Trident 660 is more than capable of taking what a first-big-bike buyer will throw at it. It’s probably capable enough for most everyday riders, and even with that said, I fear its sales will be abysmal in the U.S.
The biggest problem with the Trident 660 is the Trident 800 and the latter’s MSRP of $9,995, which is just $1,000 more than the Trident 660’s $8,995. For an extra 10 bills, you get more horsepower, torque, better adjustable suspension, better tires, better brakes, and a belly pan and fly screen as standard.
The Trident 800 feels like a bargain Trident 660 SP. Sometimes, I don’t think the high-spec model is worth the upgrade, like with Triumph’s Speed Twin RS. And sometimes, I think it almost certainly is, like with Yamaha’s MT-09 SP. If you’re an experienced rider in the U.S, looking for a do-it-all bike, walk past the Trident 660 and get the 800—it’s worth it for the suspension, brakes, and cosmetic upgrades alone. But not everyone should do this.
Just because I think most first-big-bike buyers won’t choose the 660 doesn’t mean that I don’t think they should. The Trident 800 is too much motorcycle for most people’s first big bike; hell, the 660 is already pushing it. So, if you can be real about what you need from your first big bike, you already know this is a stellar option and, I’d say, the most refined model in the class.
If you can live with the fact that the 800 is a better deal at a temptingly close price, stop comparison from being the thief of joy; the 660 will be a fantastic companion. I’m not old enough to say this, but I will—you don’t know how good you have it.
