2009 Aprilia Mana 850: MD First Ride

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Other than the noisy side-stand contact, the biggest problem riding fast, for me, was the comparatively cramped riding position. I'm way taller than average, and that problem is exacerbated by the clearly stepped seating arrangement. Aprilia's other new naked bike, the Shiver, has a contoured seat which allows some variation. On the Mana, you sit in the slot provided. That's not ideal for tall riders in intense riding conditions.

But one can tolerate less than ultra-sporty handling in such a well-rounded specimen. The riding position is comfortable for commuting or touring, with a reasonably yielding ride on most surfaces. The sagging concrete slabs of L.A.'s 110 freeway has the Mana hopping like a bunny, and you'll hear your own breathing jolting out in gusts as the motion pumps your diaphragm. But that's true of many short-wheelbase vehicles on the same route, and the Mana is no exception.

This is a good-looking bike, we think, with a dramatic profile and well balanced volumes. So it's a pleasant discovery to find useful storage space under what most people fondly imagine is the fuel tank. Aprilia claims that the cavity will store a full-face helmet once the faux tank-cover is popped (either by switch on the bars or by a lever under the rear-seat section, which swings up on a hinge to expose the under-seat fuel tank). However, the storage pocket wouldn't accommodate my large-sized KBC even with its preformed liner removed.

Still, there's a lot of space for other stuff, and there's a handy lighter-socket power supply in there. It's so great having some stash space on a motorcycle you'll forgive the bike its bias against big-headed riders. And maybe also forgive how difficult it is to fill the real 4.2-gallon fuel tank without splashing fuel around. Perhaps it's the vapor recovery sleeves we have around here, or maybe it's just stupid design, but I managed to waste about a cup of gas at every refueling stop.

Speaking of gas, the Aprilia people were thoughtful enough to provide a trip computer along with the multi-modal CVT. It'll tell you your instant fuel consumption rate and your average miles per gallon (which was about 40, for us), along with average speed and highest recorded speed. But it won't even guess at how far you can go with what you have left in the tank. Range is about the single most useful bit of data that trip computers usually provide, and it isn't in the Mana's repertoire.

Even with all those willing little electrons on duty, you still have to figure your range by the trip meter. Ah well, nobody's perfect. At least the Mana has charm on its side, along with the versatility I mentioned earlier. It's an imaginative leap into the future, envisioning a rider that needs a daily commuter as well as a bike suitable for a little light-duty touring and a spot of low-intensity canyon carving. As a jack-of-all-trades, the Mana does all of this reasonably well. Nonetheless, responses to the bike from the community are polarized. Some like the concept; some hate it.

In itself, that's not a problem. But the price may well be a problem. At $9,899, the Aprilia Mana 850 is more expensive than its Shiver stable mate, and pricier than just about anything you might consider a marketplace rival. (Suzuki's SV650S and Kawasaki's Versys come to mind if you don't mind shifting your own gears.) The fact remains; The Aprilia Mana 850 is the only one in the bunch with the flexibility provided by its novel transmission.

The market will decide what that's worth.

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