Somebody said: “It’s really just a big scooter”, when the subject of the Aprilia Mana 850 came up, and it’s easy to see why. After all, the Mana has a continuously variable transmission (CVT) just like most scooters do, making the machine a snap to ride for newbies and car-crossovers.
But really, it’s more than that. With a torquey new 850cc 90-degree V-twin and sophisticated electronics, the Aprilia Mana offers real versatility for someone with a variety of transportation needs. In its Touring mode-one of three “Autodrive” modes selected by a button on the right-hand switch housing-the Mana provides fully automatic propulsion in a very unobtrusive fashion.
You just twist the grip and off it goes on a flutter of V-twin exhaust sound, stepping off firmly and accelerating at a quite deceptive rate. You never have to worry about being alongside assertive BMW drivers at traffic lights because there’s no way you can botch your launch. Without a clutch to worry about, outstripping cars simply requires a manly handful of throttle.
Many people have compared the peculiar relationship between engine sound and velocity on CVT-equipped vehicles to a slipping clutch, but it isn’t quite that. There is a peculiar protraction of the normal engine crescendo (which means the musical intensity building toward a climax and not the climax itself, by the way), but since there’s no loss of power between engine and rear wheel, clutch slip doesn’t really describe it. Because of the CVT, there is no tachometer fitted, nor is one needed.
Select the Sport mode and the engine runs at a higher speed the whole time, spinning nearer its 76-horsepower peak (reached at 8000 rpm) for stronger response. That’s okay for spirited riding, but in those circumstances you may want to switch to the fully manual sequential mode, where the computer offers seven speed ranges in a very fair approximation of a regular gearbox. Except, of course, that there’s no clutch to work, and you can shift at full throttle (with either a conventional-looking foot lever at the left or with a fore-and-aft switch at the left hand grip).
In the sequential mode, the Mana will rev to its limiter in whatever “gear” you’re in, presaged by one, then two yellow shift-warning lights. At the Mana’s level of tune, there’s no real reason to do that other than to prove it can be done, but at least the bike provides an honest representation of a manual gearbox. Shifts are amazingly fast, and lose very little time between bursts of acceleration. The third fully-automatic mode in Aprilia’s so-called Autodrive set is called Rain, and it softens power delivery for obvious reasons.
What’s remarkable about this clutch-less bike is the carefully calibrated low-rev operation. You soon learn to perform U-turns and other low-speed maneuvers by just gently rolling into the throttle. There’s no danger of ever stalling the bike. In fact, when slowing down, the Mana will run against engine braking until just above a walking pace, then smoothly disengage its clutch.
Mildly tuned it may be, the Mana’s 850cc SOHC eight-valve twin is not slow. Wind it up and it drops the traffic off in short order. Freeway cruising at 80-plus is pretty effortless, and you’ll get tired (from the windblast) before the engine does. The Mana also handles nimbly, with very quick response available from the moderately wide tube handlebar. Actually, the leverage is so good and the response so quick that one soon learns to be very soft and gentle on the bars.
The non-adjustable 43mm inverted fork is fairly compliant, and the single offset rear shock has only preload and rebound damping adjustment, but the Mana’s only cornering deficiency is its relative lack of ground clearance. The side stand on the left side touches down before the footpeg feeler, which struck us as peculiar. Not to mention noisy, because it makes pretty solid contact-hard enough to start visibly wearing out the stand’s little foot in just a few touchdowns. Other than that, the Mana is a pretty flickable piece, responding quickly to steering inputs, holding lines accurately, and demonstrating good stability.
The brakes aren’t bad either. Twin radial-mount four-piston calipers up front pinch 12.5-inch rotors, and although they look a lot like Brembo equipment, the calipers are apparently supplied by a Taiwanese factory. Nonetheless, the brakes bite strongly at moderate lever pressure and feel entirely adequate to the job.
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.
