Let's go!

We're off, let's see what happens! I'll report back as soon as I can.

R100GS - prep work.

Partly because of what I have described here, I have been thinking a lot more about our R100GS lately, and I'm trying to decide if I like it or not. Finally, objectively, once and for all: do I like this bike?

One of my first impressions of these R80 and R100 bikes was that they are "simply astonishing motorcycles. There's no other word for it, when you consider just how much they can do and how well they cope. There is a bottomless pit of torque, always at your disposal and the powerplant just keeps on going without missing a beat." and also "that despite appearances [it] manages to deliver a very easy and fun ride no matter where you go.".

The 247 airhead was a relatively new experience for me back then, so that impression was not tainted by things I discovered over the following years (and miles). I have encountered various problems (both on our R100GS as well as on friends' and strangers-on-the-internet bikes) and even though none of the issues I've had have ever been bad enough to leave me stranded, they were bad enough and costly to repair (this was apparently a gearbox output shaft seal that had failed, as well as water in the transmission case that caused the bearings to rust, necessitating a rebuild of the gearbox. Are you convinced, or does it sound like the mechanic might have ripped us off? Consider also that the shifter oil seal was not replaced even though it is visibly leaking: I would have thought it would be one of the items that get replaced as a matter of course during a rebuild...). And then there's the issue of the glaring Achille's heel on these bikes, something I just cannot ignore. We'll get to that later...

Reaching a consensus (in my own head!) about this odd, goofy-looking motorcycle has been a bit of a rollercoaster; my last claim is to have finally understood what it's all about, and I stand by what I said, but there is a "but".

I refute the "stout indestructible motorcycle" stereotype in the strongest possible terms.

Another thing: the level of delusion people have when it comes to these bikes is breathtaking: "oh they are so simple and rugged, they're maintenance-free and nothing ever breaks, they are the best, most beautiful motorcycles in the world!". Look friend, I appreciate your enthusiasm at having found the right bike for you, but if you haven't had any issues with your BMW it is down to just dumb luck.

These things are anything but simple, the maintenance requirements are ludicrous and the most accurate word to describe their reliability is "unfathomable": you might be lucky and cross all continents with nary a problem, or you might be enjoying a lovely ride on a perfect day when suddenly you can no longer shift gears. Now what? If this happens on a Commando, it's a 15/20 minute roadside repair. Slightly more involved on the Sportster, but doable. On the BMW? Forget it. The gearbox on these bikes is the real Achille's heel I was referring to earlier and I simply cannot pretend there is no problem just because it hasn't gone wrong yet.

The driveshaft and final drive aren't much better either. Here are some issues encountered or that we're aware of:

• our driveshaft (!) needed to be replaced at 150.000km, which I realize is far more than a chain could ever do (maybe not a belt though...) but it's still something that requires checking with BMW's insane maintenance requirements and schedule. These are also disposable items that are eye-wateringly expensive to replace, so much so that a cheaper option from Taiwan seems to be a popular alternative and it can also be rebuilt (new u-joints and shock-absorber rubbers). I would definitely consider this next time we'll be forced to replace ours, again.
• Our starter failed, it was a shitty Valeo item so that's no surprise. And yes, these are relatively cheap (if not easy) to replace, but the point is that if this fails on the road, you're fucked.
• Witold's ignition system fried a control module, this is annoying but acceptable and a spare unit is no hindrance in a spares kit.
• Our final drive seal failed, Witold had a big problem with the final drive on his previous G/S (see next photo)... these are unacceptable flaws made all the worse by the fact that this transmission type was a deliberate choice! You want shaft drive? Make it work and make it simple, truly simple.

• Everything from the gearbox to the final drive requires shimming, which is an infuriating mathematical process that requires expensive special tools and repeated rounds of assembly, verification, disassembly, correction and reassembly. If you get it wrong you will cause catastrophic damage to the machine.
• Speaking of which, you also have to shim the oil filter cover plate and if you get that wrong you will loose oil pressure and destroy the engine. Shims everywhere!
• Apparently our gearbox output shaft seal also failed, I say apparently because I was not the one to inspect it, relying instead on the trustworthiness of a mechanic, something I very much dislike doing.
• The uniquely BMW charging system has some weak points, I don't find any of these to be particularly problematic as they are fairly easy to diagnose with a multimeter, and spares can be swapped out easily enough.
• The valve seats/guides on some models were known to collapse, not an issue on our /7 or R100GS but worth checking if you're unsure of your heads' provenance.

I have talked about the Paralever system before, and while there are definitely some desirable features (using two universal joints theoretically allows them to cancel each other's non-uniform velocities, thus avoiding variations in speed as the angle between the gearbox output shaft and the driveshaft is altered through the range of suspension travel), it also meant that BMW turned the driveshaft into a non-serviceable wear item. So while it's technically true that this is " maintenance-free" it is that way simply because its universal joints cannot be lubed. When it fails, and it will, you have to replace it. I don't care how long one lasts, to me this is ludicrous. There is an official maintenance schedule as well as plenty of real world experience to set the intervals at which to check this, and yes it's far less frequent than a chain and lasts much longer, but you still have to dismantle half the bike and pull the driveshaft out of the swingarm just to check it. 

You're then left to consider the cost of it all: spend an exorbitant amount of money for special tools, or pay someone to do the maintenance for you, hoping and praying they actually do it, and do it well, with no way to verify this other than trusting what they say.

Anyway, with all these reservations as the preface to what I'm about to do, I think this upcoming trip should be a fairly decisive test to finally understand if a BMW is a worthy motorcycle: we're off to the Kingdom of Morocco to see what these motorcycles can unlock out in the desert and up on the high Atlas.

Part of preparing for this trip was accumulating a considerable set of spare parts and tools.

Probably more out of superstition than a real need (famous last words?) I carry some spares for the carburetters. Floats and diaphragms can puncture, float needles can wear down and fail to seal, and gaskets can perish.
This horrendously expensive lot should take care of that, should any of it happen. Replacing the float on the Bing is delicate work with potentially catastrophic consequences if mistakes are made as it requires knocking out the retaining pivot pin, knurled on one end don't forget. You need a very thin drift/punch for that.

Then there are some engine electrics spares: a rotor with puller bolt, replacement brushes, regulator, ignition coil, diode board and an ignition control unit.

This should allow us to get back on the road/trail/sand should there be any type of electrical or electronic failure. I carry a NOCO booster in case the battery gives any trouble, and we even have a butane-powered soldering iron (very nifty) in case we need to start patching things up. Last but not least, the standard BMW toolkit is a set of high-quality, full-sized tools that are more than capable of tackling a roadside repair:

This was during the aggressively named Der Korsika Blitzkrieg, when my clutch cable snapped, somewhere along the D69.

I have a spare front brake and clutch levers, should there be damage as a result of a fall, which will 100% happen (hopefully only in the sand and at low speed, insh'Allah).

There is a usb socket/adapter that should help me keep my power pack charged (that itself is used to recharge a phone and a camera) without draining the battery, hopefully.

Despite it all fitting in a very reasonably sized luggage, I realize this can seem excessive but I prefer to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. There are a few more bits and pieces I didn't have time to photograph, but one thing worth mentioning is a new rear shock absorber to replace the somewhat inadequate Hagon unit the bike came with when we bought it. The new item is a very sharp looking "FG Gubellini" made in Italy's "motor valley" on the outskirts of Bologna. This is still one of those medium-small factories where almost everything is made in house and the customer service is more than just a buzzword. This thing is set up for my weight (plus gear and luggage) and should be able to handle the type of on/off road riding we're looking for.

As a last-minute thing, the GS gets a new set of Continental TKC80 tires that'll hopefully be up to the task and keep me out of trouble:

So, time to finish packing and grab a handful of throttle, we ride out at dawn in three days time; our motorcycles get loaded up on a ferry and we fly over a few days later to save time and tire treads.

"Corsicaworld": the chapter ends.

In these idle winter months, I have found myself thinking about a trip we took many years ago on our airheads. So I went digging around old hard drives and found some photos from that trip, that we had jokingly called Der Korsika Blitzkrieg and I think it's high time they found a home here. You can see them on this page in chronological order, they speak for themselves anyway so I don't need to add more nonsense.

I haven't been back to Corsica since 2012 and I have longed to go back every year since I last was there, some years more than others.

In 2016, Marco and Witold went on a fast tour over there and discovered a few new places that would be worth a second look, such as a high-altitude campsite. I would also love to revisit some fan-favorites such as l'Agriates and the entirety of routes D69 and D84, but the truth is, after all this time, that there's really no telling as to if and when we'll set foot on that playground of an island again.

Their 2016 tour was not without its troubles (yes, that really is Marco towing Witold in one of the photos below), and the two learned some very valuable lessons about what can go wrong with these bikes. We've since done our best to be prepared by bringing some tools and spare parts based on what happened to them (and to others over the years), namely an ignition control unit getting fried. More on that below the fold.

Above: no, that's not Witold's GS, it's a cow. The cow is smaller and much lighter.

Ah, the breakfast of champions.

So, Corsica just isn't going to happen, but other trips might.

Witold has a new connect with the adventure world: he's already been to Tunisia, crossed the Pyrenees off-road, gone through some Balkan states, really putting his GSPD through the wringer and it's fair to say that bike now needs a full rebuild (it didn't let him down though). He's also had a Yamaha single cylinder rebuilt in "Gauloises Blondes" livery that he test rode (and already crashed) in Sardinia; it will be his ride for the next adventure. If I manage to go ride, there will be some prep work to do on the bike and some spares and tools to set aside, including an ignition control unit...

Corsica is in the past; the future takes us to God, the Country and the King.

Permutations

This was probably bound to happen sooner or later, so there's not much point being mad about it. Rather, let's figure out what is happening and what to do next.

The issue at hand is a growing sense of unease, a slight and barely noticeable condition that has crept up recently and makes us feel a bit... bored. This is a bad omen, as the initial (rushed) conclusion is that we've seen all there is to see around these parts and that it's all over, this place is done.

This is true, at least in part and I had experienced something similar after years riding across Tuscany, to the point where boredom became nausea. Yes it's all so picturesque and people come from all over the world to see the cypress-lined driveways and fields of golden wheat, the villas, bloody Florence and the coastline towns and beaches. But... it's also very dull after a while. Umbria and Marche are a bit better, but nothing compares to Abruzzo, our mountain haven. Yet we must confront the fact that we've been exploring these lands for the past eleven years now and with very few exceptions (the Majella park and Campotosto), there's no longer that feeling of awe and spectacle there was before.

Instinctively, I've always tried to stave off this moment, trying various permutations of a limited set of elements to yield different results. I join a long tradition of alchemists, philosophers and mathematicians, all of whom have done much the same thing in their own fields.
All the routes I've scouted and revisited, shared with friends and remixed have often unlocked new experiences, but the roads are only so many, so there's only so much change I can apply to the structure of reality.

Witold's view is much more pragmatic and more blunt than mine: "it's done, we've seen it all, let's go off-roading through the world". I prefer to think of it as a blade that gets ever sharper; much in the same way as I've constantly reduced my luggage, I must now do away with those itineraries that no longer offer anything noteworthy and focus on those that do. Surely it must be obvious that this approach invites discussions on identity (this is the Majella, this is Campotosto - both experiences remain basically unchanged regardless of how I rearrange itineraries), change, and the nature of reality: every permutation is simply a different arrangement of available elements with the purpose of maintaining the awe I talked about; either it all stays the same despite changes in how I arrange routes and gear, or something unexpected could always happen. As this isn't science, but divination, the outcome is far from guaranteed.

A somewhat more sinister interpretation has to do with determinism; consider all the permutations available to us: are we just following a predetermined order or is there room for genuine choice and variability? I wouldn't worry about this too much though...

Going much farther afield is and always has been appealing, the only limiting factors having always just been money and responsibilities. It also means, realistically, that if I do this it will be on the R100GS if there's even a hint of unpaved roads (otherwise the Sportster and the Commandos are perfectly capable machines).

Old Irons 2024 - a report.

"I heard there may not even be a rally this year..."

"I heard they were changing location and that it's going to be an invitational..."

"nobody knows for sure yet, it might be last minute..."

These were the rumors surrounding this year's Old Irons rally, and the reason is simple. As I had mentioned last year, this rally is a small miracle and relies on a delicate equilibrium in order to exist. Well, now that equilibrium has been disrupted, possibly irreversibly so: what was once a remote and hard-to-reach plateau is now inundated with all manner of vehicles and the untold masses that bring them up there. We rode past what must have been thousands of people and at least forty or fifty camper vans, huge, white and bulbous, like a grotesque display of beached beluga whales.

The motorcycles weren't much better either, all new and plasticky, all electronic, all the same...

This place is finished and I have a sense the local authorities will have to step in and regulate access, or the next thing to make the headlines around here will be "national natural landmark suffers serious environmental degradation". 

But let's go back to the start of the day, when my dad aboard the Interstate, Lele on the Sportster and I on the Rising Star set off along the Salaria, all the way to Antrodoco and then up and over towards l'Aquila. A nice easy stroll along the sweeping turns and mellow scenery of the "sabina" and "reatino" areas. It was a hot day and I was being careful not to overdo it, but the BSA was turbine smooth all day. The route was also very easy with basically only one turn where to pay attention, and a bit of a slow crossing at l'Aquila; otherwise the most challenging part was precisely up on the Campo Imperatore plateau where by some miracle the Rising Star didn't shake itself apart and I got through with only a mild buzzing sensation in my arms. This little chopper has no right to be as tough as it actually is, it keeps leaving me astonished at how strong and capable it really is.

Once we got to the mountain kiosk, it quickly became apparent it would have been impossible to stop for food there, so we continued since there really wasn't far to go. The descent towards Rigopiano was peaceful and relatively quiet; of course all along the way we met many others on choppers and other cool contraptions, which all adds to the atmosphere.

From the road, the only giveaway that there was something going on was seeing maybe a dozen bikes parked along the edge, otherwise this is very secluded indeed. A short climb on loose limestone gravel gets you to the metaphorical gate onto a clearing, immediately flanked by the mountain, itself cloaked in impossibly tall beech trees.

What I noticed right away was that everyone looked, in a word, enthusiastic about being there. This location managed to recapture the grassroots essence of this rally, as well as breathe new life into it. We all wonder what the future may bring, but it looks promising!

It seemed easier to catch up with everyone and we soon had a large group of old friends eating, drinking and spouting absolute nonsense about motorcycles and chickens.

Even Witold managed to join at the last minute but by no means late, aboard his R100GSPD, that poor bike needs a substantial amount of work and attention... and yet remains unstoppable. As to the reason why that bike needs an overhaul, that will be the subject of future discussions, but better not speak of such things at a chopper rally, so off you go into the woods:

With no time to waste, we set up our tents and figured out some helpful tips for next year (get there early to find a nice spot, bring a good flashlight and possibly leave a couple of LED beacons on so you can find your tent in the dark. Bring lots of water...).

It's so much easier being there than way up at the top where you're completely exposed to the sun beating you over the head and the wind robbing you of body heat. Instead, everything is within a few steps, be it the kiosk (hardly ever a line), the beer stand or the bikes. Lots of really nice rides this year, from Panheads to Shovels, Duo-glides and Electra-glides in their original paint, period accessories and just the right amount of patina.

One machine I kept going back to was this R90/6, with the impressive period optional twin disc brakes, a sports seat (possibly a Giuliari?) and modern shock absorbers (Wilbers, I think), the original luggage and absolutely no fuss or fanfare, just an eminently practical tourer. I find this particular model to be very appealing, though I don't know it well enough to tell whether it would suit me. At any rate the handlebar is too narrow and the master cylinder for the front brake is something that gives me pause, having seen it on our own /7.

There's something about these Bavarian airheads... they're not cool, they're not particularly good-looking, powerful or agile; and yet they can't be ignored. 

The evening's festivities continued late into the night, long after we grilled the last skewers and drank the last beer.

I couldn't fall asleep but I must have eventually passed out and woke again as the first sunrays entered my tent. We all packed up with no particular hurry and already noticed one more surprise this new place had in store for us: the morning was nice. No hurry to get going, and a breakfast stand ready to serve decent coffee and sweet or savory home-cooked items.

One thing I did do was to tighten the steering stem nut on the Rising Star, which was way too loose, probably due to all the abuse along the Majella park at the end of June. I'll need to keep an eye on this.

a lengthy detour back home was a good opportunity to revisit some nice spots like Roccaraso and the higher part of the SS17 especially. We also hit torrential rain down towards Barrea and further along, not to mention horrendous heat. Although we had no real mechanical trouble, the starter motor on Lele's Sportster is giving us cause for concern, I think this will need a rebuild and possibly an overall check of the electrical system very very soon.

Black & Gold, never gets old.

Harley-Davidson's Aqua Pearl, an underrated and now rare, super color.

Thanks to Lele for his company, patience and photos.