Gift horse - part 13

This particular motorcycle has an 'S' seat, with its characteristic rear cowl and, more importantly, extra storage under it compared to the one found on the first version of the /7. I've always appreciated the styling of these, and it's interesting to note that all the twin-shock BMWs that came out from the very late 70s until the end of production (I believe in 1984) had these as standard. It is rumored that designer Hans Muth took inspiration from the svelte sports seats found on British sports bikes when he created this seat for the R90S, originally (it's worth pointing out that on the R90S, the bodywork is slightly smaller than on the /7, though this may not be so easy to spot at first). Ours is not in great shape, though I have seen much, much worse. While initially, as for many other components on this motorcycle, the idea was to leave it "as is", we decided to refurbish the seat at least partially. I truly think this motorcycle will turn out to be a worthwhile addition to the stables, so any time and effort spent on it isn't wasted in my opinion. Aside from the obvious (the foam has seen better days, the cover shows some small tears here and there), there is also some damage to the fiberglass edge of the seat, probably from it being swung open many times and banged against the subframe (which has matching dings and scratches near the hinges).

There is also something going on with the seat pan itself: the underside looks all gnarly, resembling the result of heat distortion, which obviously can't be right: 

I wonder if it was damaged and repaired at some point (not the neatest repair if so, as the hinge brackets are positioned so that the seat isn't level when it's closed, and the rear cowl hits against the tail light on one side). There are some cracks visible that could be repaired with all manners of different materials (epoxy, steel, aluminum or even fiberglass patches). So, seeing that it wasn't properly positioned prompted us to remove the seat and dismantle it as we attempt a repair. Our go-to upholsterer has been consulted, and he says the foam is actually good enough to re-use, while the small tears in the cover can be repaired.

As for the seat pan, it was sand blasted to reveal a severely banged-up base and badly bent hinge-hooks.

Below, although it may look like a broken gasket, these individual aluminum strips are used to fix the seat cover in place by riveting them to the seat pan before the seat itself can be mounted to the fiberglass cowl. They are not available as spares as far as I'm aware, so care must be taken when handling these so they can be reused.

We also have a replacement foam pad that goes under the cowl, to seal the rear storage compartment:

Here you can see the seat after an initial good buff but before we realized it was going to need some extra work; you can spot a new roundel applied and the integrated luggage rack that was re-painted:

Visible in the background are an Aladdin kerosene heater, and a hand-operated pump to spray Bordeaux mixture fungicide on plants. These weigh a ton even when empty, then you have to fill them up, load them on your back, ergonomics be damned, and work your way through the fields in the heat of a Mediterranean vineyard. Tough gig.

Outsourcing jobs is something we do only when our equipment and expertise isn't sufficient. Add to that a chronic shortage of free time and the only thing we could do was hand this mess over to Marcellini, who did a good job of reshaping metal (including fabricating brand new hinge hooks) until everything lined up again:

Above: it is once again possible to leave the seat open without having to hold it open by hand. Note that this will not be possible if the right-hand luggage case is mounted, which is true of probably all twin-shock 'R' beemers.

Foam and finished product at long last:

Though not strictly part of the seat, what's under the seat is possibly the best storage compartment to be found on motorcycles of this vintage. There is ample room for the famed BMW toolkit, and a few small items if needed. A new sealing strip was applied (not an easy task!) and it is ready to go back into the frame.

Once in position, this has the added job of keeping the battery retaining strip in place, so there is absolutely no risk of the (heavy) Bosch battery going anywhere.

I have read and heard about these bikes being "built around the battery", and it's an amusing way of describing the fact that the battery is not the easiest to remove or install; in reality, as long as you remove the airbox and the inlet tracts to the carburetters, it's not that bad, and it shouldn't be something you'll need to do too often. Hopefully this old-fashioned (though brand new) lead-acid battery will have enough cold cranking amps to turn the big flat twin over reliably. I'm really not a fan of these as they require constant monitoring and maintenance, but for the time being it will have to do.

And back on the bike, at last!

It may be hard to spot, but I'd encourage you to notice the perfect continuity of the pinstriping between the seat and the tank. Tremendous.

Here's another look under the seat, where you can also find a handpump for the tires tucked into the frame. Probably very hard work but better than nothing if you're stranded:

Yes, I see it too, that cable stay has popped out of its locating hole in the mudguard, I'll put it back right away, I promise.

That giant sticker on the rear mudguard contains useful information about tire pressure and sizes.

The rear storage compartment, only available on the 'S' seat as far as I'm aware, is reserved for a first-aid kit, and there is a red arrow-shaped sticker on the side panel, pointing to it.

Unfortunately the side panel was damaged at some point (they are held to one another via a heavy gauge rubber O-ring across the frame, and these were known to fail at times, meaning a side panel could work itself loose and fall off), we'll see if it makes sense to have it repaired. We do have a new decal just in case.

Majella tour 4. - Expansion pack

I had the best possible birthday this year: a four-day motocamping trip with my buddies. We headed once again for the Majella park, and changed things up a little bit by expanding the standard itinerary and skipping a couple of sections. All in all, it turned out well and everyone was happy.

Sandro and I met first and he led the way along the (in)famous colle di Montebove route; this has been the scene of much illegal road racing, whereas I think it we get to enjoy it far more at our slower pace while taking in the scenery. Witold and I had actually come up this way a while back without knowing anything about the speed freaks' predilection for this place.

Approaching the mountains, awe-inspiring as ever.

Once in Pacentro, we were joined by Walter and my dad, once again aboard the Morini and the Interstate. Witold had been delayed at work and still managed to catch up with us on his new ride (more on that later) right as we were wrapping up our wonderful lunch at the beautiful "Taverna de li Caldora".

We got back on the road and immediately up the SR487, once again getting that "welcome to the park" feeling as we followed the route you see above, and continued towards the little train station of Palena, and already my impression was that we were all present beyond mere concentration on riding, I think we were all truly in the moment with all other thoughts and daily hassles left far away and far behind.

Sandro rides a Mk1 BMW Nine-t, and it is an awesome motorcycle: killer styling, an exhaust symphony that goes from a deep subdued bass at idle that you feel as much as hear, to a loud, raspy blare that would put the trumpets of Jericho to shame. The engine is a big brute of a thing, with gobs of seemingly endless torque and far too much horsepower for what I'm used to. I like this bike a lot.

And Witold says he's found his all-time favorite engine in this 1994 Ducati 900 "Supersport". I know, it's truly shocking considering he has one of the meanest Norton Commandos around, but I have to admit this thing is on another level. This is not a machine, it is a living, growling, angry beast, and the sound coming from the race-only Termignoni exhausts is almost frightening. The bike itself is wonderfully small and compact, and betrays the obsession of its designers and engineers to create something with the singular purpose of going fast. There are no creature comforts whatsoever, no convenience, just a clattering metal soul, speed and fury.

And then there's the R100GS, that goofy, weird and oddest of bikes, that despite appearances manages to deliver a very easy and fun ride no matter where you go. After tweaking the ergonomics ever so slightly (handlebar a little bit more upright and a couple turns' more preload on the rear shock absorber) I found it much more usable than I had back in 2020. In fact, I remembered what it was like to ride around Corsica ten years ago (!) and I quickly changed my mind about selling it (same goes for the Milanek panniers, which are excellent). Witold nodded, pleased.

Instead of the usual left turn around the southern tip, we reached Roccaraso, Ateleta and then we encroached on the mysterious region of Molise for a short while, before heading back up to Sant'Angelo del Pesco and Pizzoferrato with its characteristic rocky outcrop:

Ideally we would have continued back towards the "classic" loop, but it was late in the day by that point, so we headed to a new campsite instead, which turned out to be a good location (completely to ourselves) and with everything we needed for the night, including cold beers and barbeque. Nice.

Man make fire.

Our first night in the tents was peaceful and quiet, although I probably need to replace my sleeping pad as I found it slightly deflated in the morning. Temperatures were around 15 degrees (Celsius, you savages!) and humidity low.

After a quick caffè & cornetto breakfast we tore down our camp and packed up, ready to get back to our itinerary. Our first detour of the day was to the town of Roccascalegna, to see the impressive castle that was built on an even more impressive rock, such that it looks like the prow of a ship breaking through a stormy sea.

Alright, checked the bloody thing off the list, time to get back to business, with one of the absolute best parts of the trip coming right up.

Pay attention to that little stretch in red: this is the fastest part of the circuit and it was an absolute blast to ride once more. The BMW really showed its "sport" side of the GS package, and was surefooted and smooth throughout. It was here that I had the sudden realization that the true appeal of the R100GS is in the combination of smoothness AND torque, such that you can be fully focused on the road with no distractions from an unhappy engine, but rather one that feels like a surging turbine. I could see Witold peeling away on the Ducati... but not by much. Sandro, right behind me on his Nine-t was starry-eyed by the time we reached Lama dei Peligni; what a road!

The heat suddenly built and we knew we would have had to stop, and soon. Luckily within a short while we reached the little lake at S. Angelo, and found us a very nice restaurant where we ate far too much and managed to cool off a little.

Confirming there isn't a millimeter left of "lean" in that tire.

Onwards again, this time with the clear goal of reaching the top (at least as far as motor vehicles are allowed) of the mountain, and keenly aware that the weather was about to turn.

Before long we had pulled over to put some layers on and close our jackets up tight. The mudguard and small windshield on the GS were already getting sprayed with mist more than outright rain, and by the time we reached the rifugio Bruno Pomilio we were truly up in the clouds.

The descent towards Roccamorice offers what is perhaps the most stunning panorama of the whole tour, although disappointingly the clouds were so thick that we could hardly see anything other than the road immediately ahead, and a sense of the sheer drop on our left.

This is where we significantly altered our itinerary and decided to head towards Santo Stefano instead of ending the day at Campo di Giove. If at first that might seem like unfinished business, I feel the value of this tour was more in the exploration of territory; "doing the loop", as I like to say, of the tightest possible circuit around the Majella complex yields a different experience. To that end, the Majella Tour 5 (whenever that may be) will be a return to the classic counterclockwise itinerary with no luggage on the bikes.

So, not keen on the idea of spending a night camping in the rain at Campo di Giove, we marched on to the lovely inn at Santo Stefano.

I can't remember whether Witold yawned, burped or stubbed his toe, but judging by Sandro's stance...

That's a lot of horses in one photo...

The new day brings sunshine and a cool breeze, we pack up once more, refreshed after hot showers, good meals and a healthy breakfast, and head up to the high plane at Campo Imperatore:

It was from here that we followed the very scenic route towards San Pietro, at the cost of missing out on the lower section of the SS80, though it was well worth it. I hadn't been up that way for almost ten years, and it was even better than I remembered, with the mountains suddenly becoming green and the forest reaching up the flanks.

During the last stretch of the upper SS80, because of the Ducati's roar and the Nine-t charging right beside me, in all this barrage of horsepower and exploding gasoline, I couldn't hear my own engine, and so remembered something that my friend Brian had once told me about flying airplanes: "trust your gauges". I did just that and timed the following gear changes exclusively on what the little rev counter was telling me. Flawless.

Once at the lake, the campsite, our true home, comes into view:

The tents are quickly pitched, and Witold seems to suddenly feel the effects of his Ducati:

Above, mist over our tents, then clouds rolling in over the mountains, across the lake and up towards us:

This somehow made our evening in the chalet all the more cozy, with the usual incredible hospitality of our friends Mauro & Antonella.

By the time our evening was over, we had reached that wonderful state of inner peace and of being "in tune" that only a place like this can afford.

A little rain during the night was no big deal, and everything inside the tents stayed dry.

Dawn on the final day of our trip brought some clearer weather and we headed down back towards l'Aquila where we parted ways with Witold, whereas Sandro and I avoided the autostrada and made our way up to the Rascino plateau and eventually back down to the Tiburtina for the final stage back home.

We didn't need to take out a single tool, or top up oil, or get the booster out to overcome a dead battery. Everything worked perfectly.

True, all in all we covered less than a thousand kilometers, so really not a huge distance at all... and yet they feel like plenty.

What can I say that I haven't already said many, many times (though still not as many as I'd like)... This type of tour is where everything comes together and truly makes sense, everything has a purpose. Who knows when we'll head out again, or what we'll ride, but one thing is for sure, this is why we do it: