Yes, the title is a terrible pun. Yet after years and years of chain maintenance, I have found that the idea of getting shafted by a BMW R1250RS sounded rather appealing.
There are moments in every motorcyclist’s life when you find yourself standing in the garage, mug of tea in hand, looking at your motorcycle and thinking, “It’s not you… well… actually it is you.”
That’s where I found myself with the early 2018 Honda Africa Twin. By the time the odometer rolled gracefully past 45,000 miles, the old girl had earned every single one of them.
She’d been cleaned more often than some people wash themselves, serviced religiously and never wanted for anything. Mechanically, she was in cracking condition. There wasn’t anything actually wrong with her.
Aging Gracefully
Motorcycles age in funny ways. Not necessarily because they wear out, but because you do.
The Africa Twin had carried me over mountain passes, through biblical rainstorms, across ferry ramps and enough B-roads to qualify as an honorary council road inspector.
She’d never let me down – well, just once when she suffered the infamous starter switch corrosion problem, and I had to bump-start her. Not the easiest of things when you are vertically challenged.
Yet, despite all of my affection for her, somehow the spark had begun to fade. Adventure bikes are brilliant until you realise most of your adventures involve A-roads, backroads and the occasional spirited Sunday blast.
Not once have I found myself crossing Mongolia with a spare clutch cable in my teeth, and a lot of good intentions.
It was time for a change.
The Short List
Naturally, this should have been easy, which is precisely why it wasn’t. The shortlist was surprisingly short.
First up was Suzuki’s GSX-S1000GT.
Now there’s a bike that makes an awful lot of sense. Fast. Comfortable. Reliable. Excellent engine. Proper sports tourer. It’s difficult to find anything genuinely wrong with it.
Except … Call me old-fashioned, but if I’m buying a sports tourer, I rather like the idea of it touring and that generally involves luggage—specifically a top box.
Somewhere to chuck cameras, waterproofs, snacks, gloves, coffee flasks and all the other junk that somehow becomes essential riding equipment.
Yet, Suzuki, in their infinite wisdom, decided that wasn’t really part of the standard package.
Now I know I could have gone to SW-Motech and bought the Adventure rack, and there are the much-used DUSC cases in the office that I could have laid claim to. Yet …
Then there is the Honda CB1000GT. Or rather… there isn’t.
The fix for the oil consumption issue hasn’t arrived in the UK yet, and there is a backlog of orders for the extremely well-priced GT. Regardless, I was in the Honda dealer with my wallet:
“Would you like this motorcycle?” asked the Salesman.
“When can I get one of the updated models?”
“You can order it today, Sir. All I need is a £200 refundable deposit.“
“Cool. When can I ride it away?“
“After we get them in the country and fill all of the back orders … November … so don’t delay”, was the reply.
So that was the Honda off the short list, and again, what is it with the absence of a top box on a touring motorcycle with panniers?
Which left the Moto Guzzi Stelvio. Now there’s a motorcycle that gets under your skin.
Big V-twin. Character by the bucketload. Comfortable. Beautiful in a slightly agricultural Italian sort of way.
Every ride feels like you’re starring in your own European motorcycle documentary.
We had one on loan from Moto Guzzi for a while, and it was genuinely brilliant; once the Panakee Michelin Anakee tyres had warmed up.
Unfortunately, it is also approximately the weight of a medium-sized moon.
I’m exaggerating. Slightly. With empty luggage and a full tank of fuel, I was looking at 260 kg.
Once moving, it was lovely, but there comes a point where common sense taps you on the shoulder and quietly asks whether wrestling a fully loaded Stelvio, likely topping 275 kilos, is really how I want to spend the average Tuesday.
BMW R1250RS
So… what next? Well. Certainly not a BMW. I’d already made that decision. BMWs were full of electronics, menus, modes, sensors, and computers monitoring the computers that monitor the sensors.
We’d been there before with a Ducati Multistrada. The bike itself was magnificent. The cost of the suspension overhaul was equally as “magnificent”.
After the Editor had ridden the Multistrada across Europe for a month, he discovered that the rear shock was knackered and needed an overhaul. In day-to-day riding, this had been masked by the electronic suspension.
Ducati’s answer was “It isn’t a serviceable item, please buy a new one”
Electronic suspension is wonderful right up until somebody tells you replacing or rebuilding it costs roughly the same as funding a small nation’s defence budget.
I’d promised myself, I wasn’t getting caught in that trap. Give me ordinary suspension. Springs. Dampers. Things that can be rebuilt without selling a kidney.
Then the Editor did what Editors do best. Ignored me completely.
Sycamore BMW
“Come on,” he said. “We’re going to Sycamore BMW.”
“I don’t want a BMW.”
“You’re confusing me with someone who cares – Come on“, and half an hour later, I was standing in the showroom and looking at a low-mileage R1250RS.
It was the orphan in the showroom. Not festooned with every electronic widget BMW had ever invented. No Dynamic ESA suspension waiting to bankrupt me in five years.
Just conventional suspension and several other things that were on my list of must-haves. Heated grips. Full BMW service history. Decent Dunlops, and a complete set of Givi luggage already fitted.
There’s also something oddly appealing about BMW’s boxer twin. Those two enormous cylinder heads sticking out like the bike’s trying to elbow pedestrians out of the way.
Yet somehow it all makes sense. The engine has bags of character. Loads of torque.
And thanks to the shaft drive, I can forget about cleaning and lubricating chains.
Chain riders will tell me my shaft is heavier, less involving, and that it robs horsepower. Those same people are usually the ones scrubbing fling off the back wheel with a toothbrush on a Sunday evening, while I’m already in the pub.
I’m prepared to sacrifice the odd horsepower in return for not wearing chain lube as an aftershave and lying on the garage floor wondering why modern chemistry has produced lubricants capable of sticking permanently to absolutely everything except chains.
Of course, buying the motorcycle was only half the story.
Hex Innovate
Owning a BMW and some other brands means entering the strange parallel universe of electronics.
The old Africa Twin was wonderfully straightforward. Need switched auxiliary power? Easy. Fit a ThunderBox. Job done.
For anyone unfamiliar, the ThunderBox is one of those beautifully simple bits of motorcycle wizardry that quickly becomes indispensable.
It’s a compact, intelligent power controller that connects directly to the battery, senses when the bike is running, and automatically provides switched power to accessories.
No tapping into ignition wires, no hunting for mysterious electrical gremlins, no accidentally flattening the battery because you forgot your sat nav was still switched on.
It quietly gets on with the job while you get on with riding, making it one of those accessories that earns its keep every single mile.
Unfortunately, BMW had other ideas. Welcome to CANbus, or, perhaps more accurately … Welcome to having to ask permission before being allowed to switch on a heated jacket.
Now, I would find CANbus f*ing annoying if it wasn’t for Hex Innovate and their wonderfully simplistic Hex ezCAN, which may well be one of the cleverest accessory controllers currently available.
The ezCAN provides a safe, intelligent way to add auxiliary lights, horns, heated clothing, brake lights and other electrical accessories without hacking into the original wiring loom.
Better still, it allows those accessories to integrate with the motorcycle’s existing controls. Auxiliary lights can dim automatically, flash with the horn, or respond to high beam, all through factory switches. It’s neat, reliable and completely reversible, which appeals enormously to anyone who prefers engineering over bodging.
Hex GS-911
If you own a BMW, the Hex GS-911 quickly becomes one of those purchases you wonder how you ever lived without.
Think of it as a diagnostic tool designed specifically for BMW motorcycles. It plugs into the bike, talks to every electronic system onboard and tells you what’s actually going on rather than leaving you guessing.
Fault code reading and clearing, service reminders, live sensor information and detailed diagnostics suddenly become available without a trip to the dealer.
Instead of mysterious warning lights producing mild panic and expensive invoices, you can have a proper conversation with your motorcycle. For anyone planning to maintain their own BMW, it’s bordering on essential.
Are they cheap? No. Is a trip to the dealer for a diagnostic session cheap? Hell no.
Are the GS-911 and Hex Ez-Can worth it? Absolutely.
Modern motorcycles demand modern solutions, and HEX Innovate have spent years figuring out how to make BMW ownership considerably less stressful.
Bottom Line
After years of quietly dismissing BMW owners as members of some mysterious shaft-driven cult, I can already feel myself slipping to the dark side.
The Editor, naturally, is being utterly insufferable. “Told you so” has become his favourite phrase. He’s enjoying this far more than is healthy.
Now all that’s left is waiting for delivery, which is proving considerably more difficult than I’d imagined.
Patience has never been one of my stronger qualities, especially when a GS-911 and an ezCAN are sitting in the workshop waiting for a bike to install them on.
My colleagues, meanwhile, have decided I’ve officially joined the BMW Hive Mind and the ritual hazing has already started.
Apparently it’s only a matter of time before I instinctively know the location of every Starbucks within a fifty-mile radius, and I start referring to weekends away as “expeditions”.
A loyalty card for the local artisan coffee shop landed on my desk this morning, closely followed by a membership card for the Fleece and Flat White Clothing Club. [We enjoyed that ~ Ed.]
Membership, the card claims, entitles me to a complimentary BMW fleece.
The worrying thing is… if it comes in my size, I might actually wear it.
One Response
Brilliant