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.