IFall motorcycle magazines covered the same bikes, it's frighteningly possible you'd never buy Moto-Euro. After all, it's not the cheapest (for good reason) and though the writing (ahem…), photography and graphic design are as fine as you'll find anywhere, there are other mags at lower prices. So why shell out the extra shekels? The answer? Our USP.

A Unique Selling Proposition is what makes our product stand out from the rest. In Moto- Euro's case, it's that we focus on European motorcycles. Publisher Williams has staked his considerable personal fortune, Dear Reader, on your discernment, discrimination and good taste. Among increasingly homogenized motorcycles, a USP is critical. No USP means taking on the Japanese motorcycle industry with its vast economies of scale and financial resources. Mom and pop against Wal-Mart.

For almost 40 years, Moto Guzzi's USP has been its crossways L-twin engine. No other manufacturer makes one, nor (apart from Honda's CX, Germany's Victoria and its Japanese imitator Lilac) ever has. The layout has a number of advantages: L-twin primary balance, good ground clearance, shaft-drive suitability and many more. But there are drawbacks, too: torque reaction being the most notable.

Guzzi's greatest challenge has always been how to package its distinctive engine to its best advantage. Its air-cooled, pushrod two-valve technology now deletes it from supersport territory (such that the V11 Le Mans is positioned as a sport tourer, a role it fulfills indifferently), and though cruiser variants work well, they've failed to fully engage the American imagination. In Europe naked bikes take 51% of the over 700cc market, and Guzzi scored a big hit with the 750 Breva; the smaller engine, however, limits its appeal in the Land of the Free, where super-sized chromo-sexual cruisers reign supreme. Bigger Breva So the company's latest US market assault comes in the form of the "Universal Moto Guzzi," the Breva 1100. "A true all-rounder," says the press release. Styled by Rodolfo Frascoli of Marabese Design, the Breva is supposed to evoke the 1970's V7 Special, which (fortunately) it looks nothing like. Though the V7 found a fond place in American hearts as California, Ambassador and Police variants, you have to remember it was up against the AMF Electra-Glide….

In the metal, the Breva 1100 is more reminiscent of BMW's R1150R, with which it will inevitably be compared. Unaccountably, Marabese has gilded Guzzi's lily with a chrome slab on the side of the bulbous gas tank — perhaps a sop to cruiser sensibilities. Much, much more than just a restyled, naked V11, the bigger Breva has a new transmission and final drive, and a completely revised motor with twin-spark heads. Retaining the V11's 92 x 80 mm bore and stroke, the Breva 1100 uses lighter pistons and rods, a slightly lower 9.6:1 compression and revised camshafts to produce 91 hp (five down on the V11) at 7,500 rpm and peak torque of 62 ft lbs at 6,800 rpm. Guzzi has also nixed the crankmounted alternator in favor of a 540-watt belt-driven auto-style unit mounted above the crankcase (right where Ing. Carcano put it in the first place). This has allowed the engine to be moved forward and upward in the new tubular steel cradle frame (by around 11⁄2 inches in each case) and provides for a greater range of powered accessories. The engine drives through a dry clutch to a completely new cog set and thence to the new final drive. Inside the "cardano reattivo compatto" (compact reactive cardan) casing is a fully-floating double- universal-joint drive shaft with torsion dampers. An external reaction rod controls rear-end "jacking", and the whole unit is contained in a new single-sided swingarm. It is very elegant, both technically and aesthetically.

Some of the most impressive features of the Breva, though, are in the digital "user interface." Scrolling through the available options with the grip-mounted controls offers an astonishing array of choices: clock, of course; chronometer; battery condition; service reminder settings; gearshift indicator (a red light in the tach) settings; two trip meters; average and maximum trip speed; fuel consumption; and many more, all available in metric and U. S. units. All motorcycles should be this well equipped. Equally impressive are the massive headlight and dual array of LEDs in the taillight. Fit and finish on my "Rosso Corsa" Breva was outstanding: glossy red paint, gleaming chrome and silky stainless. On the road Turning the key produces a dazzling light show from the Breva's LED dash as it cycles through its pre-flight ritual. Hitting the start button before this 2 -3 second sequence is completed gets zero response; but starting is thenceforward instant. The revised Weber- Marelli ECU handles cold start and idling impeccably, and the Breva is immediately ready to ride. Controls are delightfully light in operation; the dry clutch rattles away as soon as the lever is pulled, and the gentlest of hints to the shift lever finds first gear. The only— but only—time I ever notice torque reaction is now, blipping the throttle from idle.

My test of the engineering integrity of a motorcycle is—how easy is it to ride? Or rather, how much do I need to compensate for its idiosyncrasies? In the Breva's case, there's no "break-in" period; I feel instantly at home. Even the mirrors offer a clear rear view. (One of my pet peeves about many modern bikes is useless mirrors.) A good thing, too, as we whip through the traffic in downtown Siena, weaving between ragged lines of mini-box Euro-compacts, Smart cars, and the scads of scooters. You need eyes everywhere, and good mirrors are essential. That said, the Breva never feels completely happy in town traffic. Throttle transitions below about 2,500 rpm are occasionally snatchy, and what feels like a too leaned-out mixture (no doubt for emission reasons) causes the odd off-idle stumble.

Guzzi chose to launch the Breva 1100 in Tuscany, and from our base in the hilltop Park Hotel Siena, the distant hills of the Chianti region hover in the haze. Once freed from Siena's morning rush, we're able to stretch the Breva's legs, and I start to appreciate what a truly fine, well-balanced motorcycle this is. Gone are the V11's peaky powerband and flat spots, replaced with smooth, instant power almost anywhere in the rev range. Whipping through tight turns in the Tuscan hill roads, I could choose any of two or three gears, the only real difference being the level of available engine braking. Handling is light and nimble, a significant achievement given the Breva's 500 lb plus heft and relatively lazy 25.5-degree rake. Stability is never in question; so stable is the Breva, in fact, that power slides on the dusty, polished mountain tarmac are completely drama free, the rear end merely winding up and drifting gently while waiting for traction to reassert itself.

rewarding. The gearshift is a revelation of slickness and positivity mated to a light and progressive clutch, while the braking is smooth and predictable. I would have preferred more bite to the front brake, and less at the rear; the back wheel sometimes locks up under a combination of engine braking and light pedal pressure. That said, the front anchor is entirely competent, just needing more pressure than I'm used to. Suspension is firm but compliant in the European tradition, while the seat isn't; in spite of its breadth, it became a bun burner after an hour or so.

Back on the freeway, I wind the Guzzi up as far as traffic gaps and the naked configuration allow. Guzzi offers a windshield kit for the Breva 1100, and it would be a boon on any long trip. The upright riding position is fine for canyon carving, but turns the pilot into a barn boor at speed. A slightly more forward stance would help as well. In the meantime, hang on! Long-distance riders will welcome the available 29-liter hard bags and 28-liter top box. With an average fuel consumption of 39 mpg during mixed city/highway riding (and multiple photo-ops!), the 6-gallon fuel tank should give touring riders plenty of range on the highway.

But it's in the rolling Tuscan hills that this Guzzi really gets going. The sheer delight in riding the Breva 1100 comes from its sense of symbiosis and synergy, each component working in harmony with its neighbor, creating a sum that's greater than its parts, a totally "together" package. The powertrain components feel especially well integrated, each free to perform its function effortlessly. In particular, that hesitation in shifting frequently found in bikes with big flywheels, is completely absent. The trick rear end completely negates shaft-drive jacking and torque reaction is insignificant. The overall effect is slick, smooth and sophisticated, traits perhaps not associated with older Guzzis. It's a major engineering achievement for the Mandello men, and the competition should be worried. But will it sell?

The Breva 1100 should be a big hit in Europe. But will it make it in America? Guzzi's "one bike fits all" concept flies in the face of U. S. trends, with motorcycle markets fragmenting into ever-smaller niches. American marketing thrives on categories, and without a handy one to slot into, the Breva may find it challenging to get noticed. And if the Breva fits any niche at all, it would be Naked Street Standard—a distressingly small sector in North America, where even world-beaters like the Suzuki Bandit and Honda Hornet don't sell. Guzzi's USP—that unique engine—will surely help. And if only Guzzi can get more bums on seats—perhaps with a test ride program—a much bigger audience might appreciate what a truly fine motorcycle the Breva 1100 is.