The Aprilia Tuono 1100
We did a lot of miles for this group test, on all sorts of roads in England, Ireland and Wales. I purposefully stayed away from the Aprilia for an appreciable amount of time because I’m already so well acquainted with it – and because I wanted to spend more time sampling the opposition. And, to be fair, before I swung a leg over it I had already a rough finishing order in mind, but I was also thinking it was going to be tough for the Aprilia to overcome the BMW. This wasn’t a test including any track work, and the BMW is such a brilliant road machine I genuinely thought it may pip the Tuono. Boy, was I wrong…
Within two miles I was utterly enraptured with the Aprilia, captivated, a slave to its lures and skills. Basically, I was in love. It’s not the first time I’ve struggled to put how this bike can make you feel into words, because it’s so overbearingly impressive in all aspects. No, it doesn’t have heated grips – who cares? No, it doesn’t have a cruisecontrol option – pfft, whatever! No, it doesn’t have electronic suspension – good, because there’s not a naked bike in existence that can touch the Aprilia’s chassis. I could go on like this for a long, long time...
Before we even get to the stupidly good engine, let’s look at the chassis. The 1100 is the first time Aprilia has taken the fact it’s a naked bike into account, but crucially it’s done it without curbing any of its skillset. The chassis is essentially still that of the RSV4, the best in the sports bike business. Yet the swingarm is four millimetres longer than the 1000cc version, which helps stability and control (especially when it ends up on one wheel). The headstock angle is ever so slightly relaxed by 0.4 of a degree and the trail gets an added five millimetres. While even small changes in geometry can have a huge effect, with the Tuono any lessening of its sporting stature is offset by the fact there’s actually some weight placed on the bars via the riding position. It’s this fact that makes the big difference, that allows precise control and also makes it so good to ride, whether that be fast or slow.
The feedback the chassis gives through its Öhlins suspension is also incredible – it’s the biking equivalent of Braille. You know exactly what’s going on. The absurd level of connectivity the chassis transmits between road and rider is simply second to none.
And on the same bumpy stretch where the BMW let itself down, the Aprilia shone. It may not be electronically suspended but it’s a set-up that works through quality components and, most importantly, it never surprises you. It just does its job brilliantly, reacting just how you’d expect it to. When the hammer goes down, no bike here can match the Tuono’s handling. On track this advantage would be even more tangible.
What would amazing handling be without an incredible powerplant though? The addition of a bit more capacity was an inspired move by Aprilia. The boffins kept all that barking mad top-end, but bridged the gap with useful power from the second you release the clutch. This bike is so easy to ride slowly, the throttle response is comfortably the best of the four – as is the crescendo of the blistering power it possesses. How they got that howl of exhaust, engine and airbox to pass any legislation is a triumph I’d say, because nothing sounds as good as one of these motors, whether that’s ticking over or being mercilessly thrashed. It’s beyond incredible. It displays what should be overwhelming power for naked, but it only verges on you being overwhelmed because of the inherent control at your fingertips – it’s literally the perfect blend of everything. And then we get to the electronics, which are certainly top of the pile, and by some margin. On its lowest setting, the traction control works away in the background subtly helping you, never hindering drive nor progress. It’s the best sporting naked money can buy, from front to back, for all kinds of riding scenarios. And that’s why, once more, the Tuono reigns supreme.