Moto Guzzi Breva 1100
CYCLE WORLD TEST
MOTO Guzzi BREVA 1100
Observation: Never judge a book, or a bike, by its cover
PAUL DEAN
HAT’S ITALIAN, HAS a big-inch V-Twin motor and is tons o’ fun on a backroad? If you said “Ducati,” sorry, Sparky, you lose; thanks for playing and be sure to pick up your parting gift on the way out. Ditto if your guess was Aprilia. Nope, the correct answer to this particular $12,490 question is the Moto Guzzi Breva 1100.
Now, let’s not get nutso here; everyone knows that those two other Italian manufacturers make world-class V-Twin repli-racers that also are fabulous backroad blitzers. But you may be just as surprised as we were to learn that the Breva 1100-an unpretentious, shaft-drive naked bike powered by an air-cooled, pushrod V-Twin that, despite a mild upgrade, still is old-tech-is an amazingly capable comer-carver. It’s far from being a Ducati 999or Aprilia RSV-R-beater, but on a stretch of twisty road, it can put a smile on your face a mortician couldn’t remove. And in the process, it won’t pummel your body into submission or scare the bejeezus out of you with sheer, mind-paralyzing speed.
How can this be? Well, on the spec sheet, at least, there’s nothing spectacular about the Breva. Its 1064cc engine is an updated version of the same basic two-valve-per-cylinder, 90-degree, transverse V-Twin that’s been pushing Guzzis down the road for almost 40 years. The pistons in this latest iteration are lighter, as are the pushrods and rocker arms, and twin-spark ignition uses two plugs per cylinder to fire the big-bore (92mm, mated with 80mm strokes) cylinders. A Weber-Marelli closed-loop fuel-injection system works with a catalyzer in the stainless-steel, 2-into-l exhaust to keep the Breva emissions-legal. Neither is there anything cutting-edge about the chassis. The engine hangs from an unremarkable tubular-steel frame riding on a conventional, 45mm fork that offers only springpreload adjustability. Out back, a single, linkage-actuated shock provides preload and rebound-damping adjustments.
In concept, the Breva's final-drive system is similar to BMW's Paralever design. It uses two universal joints inside a forged-aluminum, single-sided swingarm, with a torque arm connecting the axle-bearing carrier to the frame, a few inches above the swingarm pivot. This "parallelogram" structure lets the rear suspension stroke up-and-down with out the torque-induced chassis-jacking that's prevalent with most other shaft-drive motorcycles. Guzzi calls this system CARC, the initials for the Italian description that translates to "Compact Reactive Shaft Drive."
So far, there’s not much here to light your fire, is there? And when you first start the big V-Twin, you’re likely to be further underwhelmed. The valves make the kinds of clickety-click noises that aren’t heard often nowadays, and when you squeeze the clutch lever, the plates in the dry clutch rattle so loudly that anyone within earshot stares as though they’ll soon need to duck flying engine parts. Worse yet, when you snick the transmission into gear, let out the clutch and putt-putt across the parking lot, you’re greeted with such loud clunks and bangs from the driveline that you swear the entire rear end is about to come unglued.
Fortunately, once you’re underway and moving faster than a walking pace, all that racket goes away. The clunking, which is caused by driveline ffeeplay, disappears altogether, the clutch is silent once it’s fully engaged, and the wind and other road noises mask the valve clatter. Life is good once again.
And it stays that way no matter where or how you ride. Whether commuting around town or cruising the open road, the Guzzi is joyfully comfortable, with a sit-upright riding position that doesn’t tax any part of the rider’s anatomy. Well, the footpegs actually are a bit high and to the rear, much like those on some sport-oriented bikes, but not so much as to be painful. The reach to the fairly tall, castand-tubular handlebars cants the rider’s torso forward just enough to offset windblast at higher speeds, and the seat is one of the most comfortable saddles ever put on any motorcycle in recent times. Its wide, dished shape is so ergonomically ideal that all-day rides don’t produce the slightest trace of numb-butt. When it comes to sheer comfort, the seats on some touring bikes are no match for the Breva’s.
If there’s a fly in this Guzzi’s comfort ointment, it’s a small one that lives in the suspension. Overall, the fork and shock perform admirably, keeping the Breva steady and stable in a straight line as well as when railing through corners. But while the fork absorbs all manner of road irregularities with aplomb, the rear suspension can be a bit harsh over choppy pavement. Blame this on the considerable rear unsprung weight brought about by the shaft final drive and all of its affiliated hardware, as well as some marginally stiff compression damping. Otherwise, the suspension is an asset to the Breva’s over-the-road competence.
As pleasant as the Guzzi is on the open road, it’s a revelation on a twisty one. Despite its 531-pound dry weight (572 when the 6.3-gallon gas tank is topped up), it literally feels hundreds of pounds lighter. A ridiculously light push on the bars instantaneously flicks the big Goose over into a hard corner, and the bike remains so neutral while in a turn that it’ll stay at deep lean angles without any pressure on either grip. By the time you snake through your first dozen or so comers, you feel like you could easily bank the Breva over until its gas cap drags the ground. In actuality, the only things you’re likely to drag are the sidestand and centerstand. We never did touch down a footpeg, partly because the pegs are mounted so high and partly because our testbike was delivered without the peg feelers that are standard equipment.
This is mighty impressive behavior for a non-sporting bike whose basic design dates back to the Lyndon Johnson administration. Aside from its aforementioned weight, the Breva has a comparatively long (58.8 in.) wheelbase and, by today’s performance-bike standards, not especially racy steering geometry (25.1-degree head angle, 4.7 inches of trail). Yet when you’re diving into and around comers, it feels as agile and willing as anything short of an all-out repliracer. The 17-inch Metzeier Roadtec Z6 tires stick like superglue, the Brembo non-radial-mount brakes are powerful and progressive, and as you have just read, the bike is as flickable as some full-on sportbikes that are only a fraction as heavy.
Credit most of this cooperative behavior to that big, old lump of an engine. Because its crankshaft lies in a longitudinal (front-to-rear) plane rather than transverse like on most four-cylinder sportbikes, the gyroscopic effect of the spinning crank does not offer any resistance to the rider’s attempts to bank over into a tum. Plus, it seems as though Guzzi’s engineers have managed to locate the engine precisely at the Breva’s roll center-a textbook example of the “mass centralization” that’s such a hot topic among designers of modem sport and race motorcycles. Together, these factors make turning the Breva at all speeds a seemingly effortless affair.
On the other hand, if you’re thinking that the only way you can appreciate the benefits of the Breva’s mass placement is to ride maniacally on twisty roads, you’re wrong; the effects of this bike’s mass-concentration are evident in everyday riding situations-tuming city street comers, changing lanes on the highway, dodging through congested traffic, maneuvering in parking lots, anything that involves turning. Only when pushing the Breva around the garage or when lifting it onto its centerstand do you sense its real weight.
Although the Guzzi’s engine plays a pivotal role in the bike’s sporty handling, its performance is not as stellar.
The 90-degree V-Twin is almost vibration-free and booms out a moderate amount of torque, 56.2 foot-pounds at 5600 rpm, but makes just 71.7 peak horsepower at 7400.
With that level of propulsion, the Breva is not likely ever to be described as “fast,” but it does accelerate briskly, with a steady, linear delivery. The ratios in the slick-shifting six-speed transmission seem perfectly mated to the engine’s torque curve, allowing the Guzzi to make good use of its available
power. Our test bike managed a bestr quarter-mile run of 12.44 seconds at 110.22 mph, and it squeaked out a top speed of 126 mph.
Again, that’s not even close to repliracer territory, but if you start making those kinds of comparisons, you’re missing the point. The Breva isn’t intended to set fast time on your favorite racer road, and it isn’t going to wow all the crotch-rocket boys down at the local bike-night hangout-though properly ridden on a tight backroad, it just might embarrass a few hardcore sportbikers. Rather, this is a wonderful all-around motorcycle, one that can transport you back-and-forth to work every day, take you and a passenger comfortably on a weekend outing (especially if gussied up with the optional windshield and hard saddlebags) and allow you to slice along your favorite twisties with an ease and grace seldom possible on a motorcycle of such versatility. And all the while, you’ll be entertained by the soothing thrum and hum of a 90degree V-Twin engine that has been singing its soulful song since 1967. At a cool $12,490, the Breva ain’t exactly cheap, but neither are liter-class Ducatis, Aprilias or MV Agustas.
So, for the second time, what's Italian, has a big-inch V-Twin motor and is tons 0' fun on a backroad? -
You there, the rider wearing the Moto Guzzi T-shirt: Come on up here and claim your prize.
MOTO GUZZI BREVA 1100
$12,490
