Understanding the R100GS

Of all the various motorcycles we're fortunate enough to own, the R100GS is one I haven't actually ridden all that much. So despite being in our garage since around 2011, it has taken me until now to truly figure it out. 

I'm gonna tell you a secret about these "airhead" BMWs: they're not motorcycles. What they are is machines, tools even, or dare I say it... automobiles shaped like motorcycles; this is apparent through the many engineering solutions that were adopted from the automotive branch of BMW into their motorcycles (just a couple of examples: the single-plate dry clutch bolted directly to the crankshaft, which itself runs on the same plain bearings and with the same connecting rods as used on BMW cars of the same era) . And, at least for me, the R100GS only really comes into its own when I get to take it on a trip with my buddies, otherwise it's not the kind of bike that's on my mind, and I don't miss it when I'm not riding it (although seven years between rides is a bit much, wouldn't you agree?). What I do miss is the experience it allows you to have, and in that sense it is a spectacular bike.

Look, in general the bike itself is meaningless without somewhere to go and friends to go there with (I do apologize for the hanging preposition).

You might ask, why am I betraying the British, the Italians and even the Sportster? The simple truth is that as time becomes ever more scarce, the possibility of an inconvenience or a breakdown is no longer something I can afford to entertain. Therefore, I must give validity to something that's going to give me a higher degree of reliability AND touring ability (read: panniers) at the cost of goofy looks, less "street cred" and a weird final drive that jacks the bike up and down instead of down the road.

Our GS underwent a massive overhaul in 2017 (I think what this bike could use at this point is just a better shock absorber at the rear and perhaps a stiffer fork brace and a floating disc at the front), and among other things now boasts a Siebenrock 1000 kit (essentially new cylinders with Nikasil/Galnikal bores and lightened pistons), a hotter cam and a lightened and re-balanced crankshaft. All the weight reduction does make for a much more rev-happy engine, albeit at the cost of some vibration around the 4.000 rpm mark. 

When I first rode it after this work was done I felt disappointed, and felt that the engine had been ruined. After all, it was smooth before, and now it vibrated. What I didn't understand was that this sport-oriented upgrade delivers in a way that the stock configuration can't: its biggest virtue is that you can set an easy cruising speed of around 110km/h at about 3.200 rpm - and the bike is smooth as glass - or punch it up to about 5.000 rpm if you need to haul ass; still very little vibration at that point. And compared with a stock motor, this one will reach the aforementioned engine speeds a lot faster.