One long ride.

There is nothing particularly remarkable about the photo above, it's my Norton sitting between other British bikes at a rally in Switzerland, many years ago.

The rally itself was the usual affair of greasy dudes meeting up, drinking beer and talking nonsense about our beloved bikes, laughing loudly as we do. But what was remarkable about that particular rally was the way back. Instead of pacing ourselves and planning a sensible itinerary with a decent rest along the way, I set off early in the morning of our last day with this band of merry gentlemen and we just kept going:

This was actually an unhappy period for my Norton, as it still wasn't fully sorted out (the head had been "modified" to the point where carburation was temperamental at best, the Isolastic were a badly made, poor imitation of the real thing, the rear shock absorbers were too short, exhausts too loud and the front brake was all but useless...) and it was admittedly uncomfortable to ride - especially long distance - with the clip ons. But golly did it look cool...

The reason this particular ride has been on my mind lately, is because of a new trip I'm planning and the distances involved. As the more conservative and prudent side of me says "that's far too many miles in one day", the other says "we did Vezio to Velletri on the Fastback in one go that time, what are you talking about?!".

It was perhaps just a heady mix of recklessness, enthusiasm, youth and foolhardiness but it did see me through these trips like they were nothing.

With nothing but a jet helmet, a bandana and some goggles, I rode from the early hours until well past midnight, when I arrived home, exhausted but elated, hands buzzing, ears pounding and red in the face.

Would I do something like that again today? Certainly not - for one thing my Norton is far more refined these days, and I use a full face helmet for anything more than a quick ride on the Rising Star. But still, I must tip my hat to my younger self for riding 800 kilometers in one go, and to the Norton for managing despite not being in top shape. What a ride!

"no motorways, just down the coast all the way home"

As for the new trip(s) I'm planning? That's for next year and nothing is certain yet, but I have a feeling the Fastback will feature prominently, as will the R100GS.

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).

Carburator, Carburetor, Carburettor, Carbureter, Carburetter

As you can see from the title of this post, there are many different names to indicate that mechanical device used to mix air and liquid fuel to provide an atomized spray into a engine's intake.

All are accepted spellings and all describe the same thing. Similarly, the two carburetters (that's the spelling I typically use, as it's what Amal has traditionally used) you see below are called by different names, but they are the same thing.

All photos below have the used Amal on the left and the new Wassell on the right, for comparison.

The slide at the very left of the image is an original type Amal.

When Wassell originally launched this product about a decade ago, there was a collective gasp as - surely! - this must be a flagrant copyright infringement. So many people, from the average biker to respected members of the trade were up in arms and angrily proclaimed "we will never use these!" and various abuse directed at Wassell. However, there was one clue we should have all paid attention to: they were advertised in mainstream publications, in print and online, showing very clearly the brand "Wassell" where one would typically find "Amal" cast into the body. I don't think that if whoever holds the rights to the Amal name and products had a valid patent or other right to it, that they would have just let it happen.

These are not "pirate parts" as some people call them (yet sell them!). These are not cheap Chinese knock-offs, which we should always avoid. These are a nicely made version of the Amal Mk1 Concentric.

Sure, I found some brass swarf and "dust" on some of the threads, some debris in the pilot circuit (which is very easy to clean out though, thanks to the removable pilot jet). The upper edge of the float bowl seems a little bit uneven but is reasonably flat and doesn't leak, and the float height was set correctly. The slide isn't finished very nicely, but works smoothly. The main jet was a little bit chewed up, whereas the needle jet looks very nicely made. The needle looks fine and measures the same as a genuine item (in terms of diameter above the taper), but it is probably slightly shorter (admittedly I did not measure this, I might do that in the future). It should go without saying that you should always disassemble a new carburetter, inspect it and thoroughly clean it before use, so I don't find any of the above to be a particular fault.

Here's a nice little detail, they've added a washer as a retainer for the float plunger:

All of the defects I mentioned earlier are shown in more detail in the following shots:

brass swarf in the banjo filter location, not a huge problem but make sure everything is very clean before use.

The main jet, probably damaged during installation at the "factory".

non-descript "dust" on the pilot jet's threads

I couldn't get the needle out, the retaining clip was getting stuck on this:

It looks like whatever tool was used, wasn't controlled very carefully and gouged out a pretty sizeable chunk. I had to use a file to carefully even it out.

Another deep scratch on the outside of the slide, which I also gently sanded down.

Finishing on the slide leaves a bit to be desired, but then again that's why these carburetters are so much cheaper than those made by Burlen.

All of this is fine... just not great. As we say around these parts "bene ma non benissimo".

As a closing thought let me ask you: what's original anymore, these days? All the names that gravitate around classic motoring have passed hands so many times, changed location, died and resurrected so many times... that at best what one can hope for is some original drawings and tooling to still be around. These Wassell carburetters are fine and I'll report back once I've had a chance to ride the Rising Star a bit and see how it does.