Gs-Ing It

GS-ing it

LEANINGS

Peter Egan

IT HAS TAKEN SOME TIME (ABOUT FOUR and a half decades), but I have finally learned to mistrust my own snap judgments about nearly everything.

For instance, I didn’t particularly like Neil Young or the Allman Brothers the first time I heard them, but they grew on me, and now I own just about everything they’ve ever recorded. It also took me almost the entire Sixties to develop a taste for the Blues, which now make up about twothirds of my record collection.

The list goes on: anchovy pizzas, dry martinis, German and Italian opera, amoebic-shaped Fender guitars; all objects of former derision that now seem inseparable from good living. Acquired taste is a funny thing.

When the BMW R80 G/S came out, I thought it was possibly the ugliest object I’d ever seen.

“Why,” I asked aloud, “would anybody make such a thing?” Beauty, I pointed out to anyone who would listen, doesn’t add much to the cost of a motorcycle. All it requires is a little thought and good taste.

I gradually came to realize, of course, that the G/S was intentionally ugly. Or, more accurately, it was an attempt to create beauty out of pure utility. Beauty is as beauty does.

And what the G/S (subsequently renamed the GS) did, in its various heavily tweaked factory forms, was dominate the Paris-Dakar Rally, year after year. That got my attention.

Eventually, I did some traveling on an R100GS, and that got my attention, too. Here was a roomy, comfortable, userfriendly motorcycle, equally competent at highway touring, exploring the world’s unimproved roads or (surprisingly) keeping up with all but the most wigged-out sportbikes in the twisties. A great all-rounder with real personality.

But by then I’d become accustomed to the looks, anyway. Its ungainly lines were no longer a threat to civilization and good order, but merely a symbol of the freedom to ride almost anywhere. Seemed I’d been comparing Jeeps with Jaguars.

The affair warmed up a little more last year when I went on the Cycle World/Edelweiss tour of the Alps with Editor David Edwards. David had an R100GS-PD (the huge-tanked ParisDakar version) for the trip, and I was riding a K75S. One afternoon we traded bikes, and I found the GS to be almost the ideal bike for Alpine roads. The wide handlebar made it nimble in the hairpins, the take-it-allin riding position was made for soaking up scenery, and the gas tank could go about six months between fill-ups.

So this summer, when Barb and I decided to spend our own money and our own vacation time on an Edelweiss tour of the Alps, the bike I requested was an R100GS.

Well, that’s not quite true. I also inquired about the (incredibly ugly? eccentrically beautiful?) new R1100GS. Unfortunately, those were all taken, so I contented myself with the old version.

It was a marvelous trip. Good weather, nice people and nine days of riding through spectacular mountain passes and charming Alpine villages. Halfway through the trip, I also got a chance to ride the new GS, trading bikes with a guy named John. He was trying to decide between buying a new R1100GS or the old R100 version back home, so we swapped bikes.

Quite a contrast.

The new GS is smoother, faster, more velvety, with better throttle response, more power, much better brakes, less dive and better suspension compliance. More sophisticated and refined in every way, it makes the old bike feel slightly antique.

The only real shortcoming of the new GS is the passenger seat, which is perched high and tilted forward. The slightest touch of brake-especially into downhill corners-caused Barb to slide into me with considerable force, putting a fierce load on my U-wrists and arms (much helmet bumping). On the old GS, she was more tucked in, one with the machine.

Okay, there was also one other shortcoming. The new GS is bigger, taller and heavier than the old one.

■ John, who is a very good rider, managed to drop it twice during simple parking-lot maneuvers, doing (as it turned out) $1200 worth of damage to valve covers, tank and saddlebags. Even forewarned, I almost dumped it myself the first time I left the parking lot. This baby is tall.

Overall, I would say the new GS is a far better streetbike than the old one-both John and I were faster and smoother on the new GS. It is, in fact, one of the finest roadbikes I’ve ever ridden. Between the two, it would be my first choice to cross the U.S. Or to ride in the Alps again-solo.

But it is clearly not so well adapted to dirt-tracking in the boonies or to the hard knocks of Third World exploration. Some of the hard edge is gone.

Should an ostensibly dual-purpose bike do $1200 worth of damage to itself when gently laid down? I don’t think so. The old GS has real crash bars of steel tubing; the new one has diminutive protector plates bolted to the cylinder heads. It’s simply a more vulnerable, complex motorcycle.

So, you say, what of it? Most people ride these bikes on the street anyway. Well, the Next Great Tour I have in mind is an odyssey through the mountains and backroads of Mexico, and I’ve been thinking a lot about what kind of bike would be right for the trip. Based on recent impressions, my first choice would probably still be the old Boxer, with its real crash bars, repairable carburetors, simple electrics, lower seat height and lighter weight.

The new GS would be nicer on all but the worst pavement-and would certainly make getting there more enjoyable-but I like to think it’s ultimately that truly bad pavement we’re after. Or no pavement at all.

I’ve never toured mainland Mexico, but it has been my experience in Baja that tequila tastes better in the evening when you’ve been down a few roads you’d rather forget. And lived to drink about it.