It’s funny how rarely motorcycle riders are accused of compensating for anything. Drive a Porsche or a McLaren, a Ferrari or a Lamborghini, and the suggestion that you’re making up for a lack of something is usually quick to follow. Especially if you’re driving like a twit. Or work for a bank. Or possibly both.
But riding a motorbike is different. It’s a more intimate expression of who you are; altogether a more physical, visceral experience. I’m convinced that every trip on two wheels, being that much more hazardous than in a car, is that much more meaningful. If two wheels and a fast road are the ultimate bullshit filter, leaving you in full control of your own mortality, it follows that the bike you ride should reflect who you really are. When you strip away all pretence, and forget the social signalling, the question is: what are you riding?
In response to that, I’d wager that many of you, given the chance, may end up pointing at a Royal Enfield Shotgun 650.
It’s not the fastest motorcycle out there, or the sportiest, the loudest, or the most complex. But the Shotgun 650 makes you feel something. And that matters. Swinging a leg over this machine, you feel like a rebel, a bandit, a leathery born-to-be-wild troublemaker. There’s an overwhelming sense of swagger with this thing. Every time I eased off towards the countryside, I felt like the mass of metal, pipes and pistons under me was a mechanical portal into the history of motorcycling. Not because the Shotgun 650 is particularly vintage in feel or design. There’s just something genuinely alluring in its blend of old-school dispatch motorcycle, café racer, and custom cruiser.
I’ll put it this way – when you pull up anywhere on this bike in your leather jacket and denims, it doesn’t need to be explained. It just looks cool; it has purpose. It tells you what it is up front. If someone was to ask you why you ride at all, you’d just point and say “well, look at it”.
I couldn’t put my finger on what I liked about the Shotgun aesthetically, until I realised what Royal Enfield have done with the design. It’s a story of two halves; cover over each section of the bike and you’ll see what I mean. Up front you get retro vintage charms, with the racy tank profile complemented by the stylised cooling fins and beautiful clutch housing of Royal Enfield’s ‘workhorse’ fuel-injected 648cc parallel twin (shared with the Interceptor and Continental GT, amongst others). Raked handlebars carry your eye back with the sweep of mean matte-black exhaust pipes.
Then suddenly the design switches to something more contemporary. The rear assembly is all modern custom, with a single seat, curved frame (shared with the Super Meteor) and compact, hot-rod bodywork. Topped with a classic-style brake light, the back end of the bike has a powerful, muscular, cruiser-y profile. This combination is clever, giving the Shotgun 650 a truly unique, eye-catching flow. It’s all in keeping with the SG650 concept model unveiled at EICMA 2021, where the emphasis was on a theme of transition, from the analogue age into modernity. I think the production machine is a success in this respect. I’ve ridden bikes which spark more conversations with enthusiasts, but few that elicit so many approving glances from the general public.
Performance on the road is composed and unfussy. There are lots of ways to ride it, but however you choose to do that, the Shotgun 650 always does it with a certain style. Around town the ample torque of the parallel twin means you can rumble about effortlessly. Out in the countryside, you can have a bit more fun. This isn’t a motorbike which you flick into turns though; it likes to be eased in, so you need to plan your riding a bit more carefully. Neither will the Shotgun rip your arms off with its 46 horsepower. However, it is a suitably sporty carver with comfortable ergonomics to match, which rewards riders who know how to conserve momentum and are confident with smooth braking, shifting and acceleration. And at 240kg of kerb weight, there’s a serious amount of momentum there for those eager to discover it…
This bike has a steady, forgiving ride, extremely predictable and reassuring, with a soft gear shift and good-enough brakes (although don’t expect sports bike stopping power). The steering is light and predictable, and the Showa forks do a decent job of handling awful British tarmac. If you’re planning frequent highway riding, a touring screen is available and advised, but the bike has no problems keeping up with traffic and doing sensible motorway speeds, topping out at around 100 mph. You learn soon enough, though, that the Shotgun 650 likes to be ridden with a kind of nonchalance. You’re not racing anyone; you’re riding your own ride. You don’t care about ripping off at the lights, because you don’t need to prove anything. You arrive at Ryka’s at your own pace, and step off feeling like you’ve turned up on something unique.
Our review bike had a number of factory customisations on it, which added to that impression – and making your bike your own is definitely what Royal Enfield encourage. Bar-end mirrors, an upgraded seat, uprated wheels and a flyscreen made it just a bit spicier than stock. That’s part of the fun with these things; a rich aftermarket in parts and accessories means you can add your own aesthetic modifications. Royal Enfield themselves refer to this model as a ‘shapeshifting mutant’ – you can spec it as a single-seater or a two-up, and the optional rear frame allows you to turn it into a tourer by adding luggage mounting points. I really enjoyed the streetfighter look of our spec though, with a single floating seat. For café point-to-points and tearing around the Surrey Hills, it was the ideal mix of practicality and “look at me” styling.
The Shotgun 650 is a cool and unhurried motorcycle with a rebellious streak, easy to ride, and at its best tearing about on country A-roads with all your leather-clad mates. It’s a pleasant riff on the formula of new-school charms in old-school garms, which is proving so successful for Royal Enfield these days. If you’re looking for a manageable machine which blends both retro and modern attitude, with enough uniqueness to spark up conversations but not become a cliché, it does a great job. The Shotgun has an edge to it; it invites you to feel like the archetype of the motorcycle rider. In that way it gives you something essential that a more plasticky, loudly coloured and de-baffled sports bike can’t.
I struggled for a while to gather my thoughts about the Shotgun. It made me quietly happy in the way that coming back to your bit of town does. There’s just an ineffable assurance about it, a nice, quiet competence and presence about this bike which makes getting into the saddle rewarding. You look forward to short trips, you look forward to long trips, and you especially enjoy pulling up on it with an audience. You get to enjoy all the sights and sounds of motorcycling while riding it without stress, and feel like you really are part of the scenery at your favourite biker haunts when off it.
Maybe it comes down to this. With some machines, it’s other people who get most of the pleasure of how they look and sound. The rider gets lost in the marque, an afterthought once the RPMs hit deafening levels. You’re a showcase, an ambassador for some Italian or German design house. The Shotgun 650 is the opposite. Riding around, you don’t feel like you’re representing anyone or anything but yourself. You’re the very essence of the motorcyclist, on the essential motorcycle. Squint and it could be 1950, or 2050; it doesn’t matter. You step into your boots, tap the patch on your leathers for good luck like you always do, and pull on that helmet. You’re a bike rider now, and the ride is yours.
And that’s the way it should be.