I could be wrong, but I think Royal Enfield has created my perfect motorcycle.

Perfect because it captures the pure and simple joy of biking which sometimes gets buried under the pile of gizmos many machines come with.

And perfect because it recaptures the pure and simple joy of my first big bike adventure, when Paddy Minne and I rode two Enfield Bullet 500s from India back to the UK in 1998.

They looked beautiful, but were made of tinfoil and hope, to the extent that pretty much every bit that could vibrate its way loose would regularly do so, then fling itself into the road with gay abandon.

The year after, with Enfield close to going under, it was bought by the huge Indian corporation Eicher, whose founder Vikram Lal appointed his 26-year-old son Siddhartha as MD.

“I took up the job immediately, otherwise I wouldn’t have had a company to be in charge of,” said Siddhartha.

Before long, Royal Enfields sported a reliable engine, fuel injection, a five-speed gearbox, electric start and waiting lists of eight months. They still looked beautiful, but now they worked.

In 2010, the company sold 51,000 bikes. Today, it sells 820,000 a year, and is the world’s biggest manufacturer of mid-range motorbikes.

As Royal Enfield historian Colin May pointed out to me recently, if Paddy and I had invested the £865 we paid for the Bullets back then in Eicher shares, we’d both be millionaires by now.

I do hope Colin gets out of hospital soon.

And although the quality of the bikes has improved beyond measure, they’ve all mostly been variations on the 500 Bullet that Paddy and I rode back all those years ago, apart from the oddball 410cc Himalayan.

Until today, and the dawn of a new era, with the launch of two 650cc machines, the Interceptor and the Continental GT, the first Enfield parallel twins since the 700cc 1960s Interceptor.

Enfield started with plans for a 600cc machine, dithered briefly with thoughts of making it 800cc, then went for 650cc for a gap in the market not filled by any other retro bike.

During the four years of development under inspired figures such as ex-Triumph head of production Simon Warburton and industrial design guru Mark Wells, the keep it simple stupid philosophy behind every decision was that if an idea didn’t add anything to the bike, it didn’t happen.

As a result, when you climb on board the Interceptor, the view is simplicity itself – a speedo, tacho and small digital panel with odometer and fuel display.

The riding position, unlike the sportier Continental GT which I’ll review later and which throws your weight forward onto the bars – a bit of a pain on the wrists on the endless downhill twisties of part of the launch in California – is upright, neutral and all-day comfortable.

Start up, and the air fills with the happy burble of a machine quietly pleased with life and its place in it. Courtesy of a 270-degree crank, it’s a lovely offbeat sound, like the love child of a parallel twin and a V-twin, and at speed becomes a satisfying growl, made even more satisfying if you fit the aftermarket S&S pipes for a deliciously visceral snarl.

Acceleration is swift and seamless, and with 80% of torque available from 2,500rpm and a torque curve as flat as Holland, beautifully smooth all the way through maximum torque at 5,250rpm then maximum power at 7,250rpm, after which you hit the red line and there’s no point thrashing it to death.

There’s no need to anyway, since it’s so torquey that I spent much of the day in third around mountain corners, opening up to fourth for straights.

It’s made even more seamless by the perfect marriage of a slick six-speed gearbox, Enfield’s first, and a featherlight slip-assist clutch as light as a hot knife through a well-buttered cliché.

In sixth for a long blast down Pacific Coast Highway at 70mph, the engine was purring away at 4,000rpm and entirely happy at up to 90mph, although at that stage, you start to get a bit windblown.

As for handling, the design team at Enfield’s £60million tech centre at Bruntingthorpe, Leics, tweaked combinations of rake, trail, frame and suspension thousands of times to get it right, and it shows, with cornering which is beautifully light, neutral and balanced.

The suspension alone is a work of art – pliant enough to soak up bumps, but firm enough for precise and planted carving through corners.

There’s only one disc up front, but with the bike weighing only 212kg even with the 13.7 litre tank filled to the brim, that’s all it needs, particularly since the feel from the front for most braking, and the rear for trail braking through downhill corners, is firm and progressive.

Add all this together, and the result is a sublime symphony of engine, suspension, handling and balance which is greater than the sum of the parts and a blissful marriage of old-school form and state-of-the-art function.

The UK price won’t be named until the big EICMA show in early November, but the US price is a bargain basement $5,799, or £4,434, so I’m going to stick my neck out and guess that the UK price including VAT will be as low as £5,500 or so.

Even if it’s a grand more than that, on a PCP deal, it would still cost less than I spend on wine every month.

Not that it’ll stop me drinking wine, of course. But I’ll just open the first bottle and raise a glass to toast a truly lovely motorcycle from a company with a great past behind it, and an even greater future ahead.

The Facts

Price: TBC

Engine: 648cc air-cooled parallel twin

Power: 47bhp @ 7,250rpm

Torque: 38 lb ft @ 5,250rpm

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Colours: Black, chrome, orange, red, silver, white

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