I lived with a Triumph Tiger Sport 660 for nine days—commuted on it, took it grocery shopping, then disappeared for a full Saturday of wrong turns that somehow added up to 420-ish kilometers. This isn’t a press kit rewrite; it’s the stuff I noticed when nobody was watching.
First morning, the triple did that quiet, confident whirr Triumphs are known for. No drama, just a neat idle and clean throttle pick-up. I left early on purpose to catch empty streets and ended up doing two laps of my favorite ring road because the bike felt immediately light on its feet. The riding position is that rare “Goldilocks” setup: bars meet your hands, pegs don’t fold your knees, and the tank’s narrow waist lets you grip with your legs without thinking about it. I’m 1.78 m and could flat-foot at lights; backing it into a tight spot behind the bakery was a shrug instead of a gym session.
The engine is the star, but not the shouty kind. It pulls from down low without coughing, then swells through the middle like it’s nudging you to pass the car in front and be done with it. I kept short-shifting because the midrange felt so eager. Sound is a friendly growl rather than a bark—neighbors didn’t glare at 6 a.m., and on the motorway it didn’t drone. Fuel economy? The dash hovered in the “low fours” (L/100 km) when I behaved; I didn’t, often, and it still looked sensible.
Handling surprised me more than the motor. On back roads the Tiger Sport changes direction with a wrist and a thought. It doesn’t flop; it rolls in and holds the line like it means it. The front end talks enough that you know what the tire’s doing, but there’s none of that nervous twitching you get on some light bikes. Stock suspension is properly sorted for real roads: it tames frost heaves and manhole stripes without turning vague. Two clicks more preload at the rear for my weight and a small bag made it feel “dialed,” not harsh.
Triumph Tiger Sport 660 Brakes are honest. Initial bite is friendly, and when you squeeze harder, you get more—simple as that. I never felt fade, though I didn’t do mountain-pass warfare. Electronics stay in the background where they belong: ABS and traction control are there when it’s grim and invisible when it’s not. The TFT is bright, easy to read in rain, and pairs quickly; I got turn-by-turn prompts without needing a degree in menu archaeology. The only tech gripe is the missing cruise control. After an hour of dead-straight autobahn, my right wrist wrote a complaint letter.
Wind protection is better than I expected. The screen moves with one hand and, crucially, each step actually does something. At my height, the second-highest setting took the sting out of 130–140 km/h without turning the helmet into a maraca. Mirrors start to fuzz a little above that; it’s not a deal-breaker, just reality on a naked-leaning sport-tourer. Heat management was a non-issue, even in a stop-start crawl past a crash site—calves stayed un-toasted.
Triumph Tiger Sport 660 Practical stuff:
the built-in pannier mounts are a blessing because you don’t have to bolt scaffolding to a good-looking bike. I ran soft bags for a weekend trip—tent, small sleeping bag, too many socks—and the Tiger didn’t wobble or wallow. The seat reads “firm” for the first half hour and then… disappears. Eight-hour day? Totally doable with short coffee stops. The side stand is easy to catch with your boot (I’m picky about that), and the turning circle is kind.
Off-pavement? I won’t lie to you: with the 17-inch wheels and road-biased tires, this is not an enduro. But I took a gravel detour to avoid roadworks; standing on the pegs, weighting the rear, letting the triple’s torque do the work—it tractored up a short, rutted climb without theatrics. Keep your expectations reasonable and it’s fine for campsite tracks and farm-lane mistakes. Also, yes, I dropped it once, very gently, on wet grass while turning around to check a viewpoint. Nothing bent; my pride recovered before the fairing did.
Annoyances? A few. The mirrors could be steadier at sustained high speed. The footpegs get slick if you’ve got muddy boots—rubber tops or grippier aftermarket pegs help. And again: no cruise control in a year when even budget cars have it feels stingy. That’s about it.
What stuck with me is how easy it was to string together a good day on this bike. The Triumph Tiger Sport 660 never made me work to enjoy it; it just quietly encouraged better lines, cleaner throttle, smarter gear choices. It doesn’t try to win spec-sheet Top Trumps. It tries to make Tuesday evenings feel like motorcycle time, not “transport.”
Would I buy one? If most of your riding is paved—city, ring roads, B-roads, occasional motorway—and you want one bike to commute, weekend, and vanish for a week with luggage, yes. Set the rear preload for your weight, pick tires that match your weather, add a small tank bag and (if you tour) a throttle lock or aftermarket cruise. Then stop fiddling and go ride. The Tiger’s charm isn’t loud, but it’s real, and it shows up every single time you turn the key.
Triumph Tiger Sport 660 Specs That Actually Matter:
| Strength | Compromise |
| 81 HP / 64 NM triple | Not a dragstrip hero |
| 410 km real-world range | No cruise control |
| Fully adjustable suspension | Limited off-road tires |
| 206 kg (feels lighter) | Vibey mirrors at speed |
