Wave after wave of water was thrown up off the road and down from the sky. The London roads had turned more than usually treacherous and the drenched rat syndrome was setting in. The 128000 mile, B reg K100 was not half as perturbed by these conditions as myself. I was living in fear of some dumbo throwing his car into my path, thus causing me to trust my life to the tremendously powerful and totally lacking in feel twin Brembo discs out front.
Despatching in London was crazy enough at the best of times. Being forced into hurried purchase of a well run in Brick after the GT750 expired had left me struggling with the mammoth in the most atrocious conditions I had yet to experience in this fair isle. The gearbox was, of course, clunky and full of false neutrals, but this was no great problem as the bike could be left in third gear and powered around the city using its massive torque.
The direct action of the shaft drive had caught me out a few times on the greasy roads. Luckily, backing off the throttle snapped the wheel back into line. On one particular stretch of road, which seemed to be covered in oil, progress was a series of spine dislocating lurches. As far as I could tell, the suspension was original. The front forks clanged and the rear shock rumbled. Wheel deflections into and out of pot-holes were thus fed direct into my bum and back.
The necessity of speeding everywhere at ridiculous velocities meant that the 600lbs of BMW and panniers often threatened to go completely out of control. After a week or so of frightening myself to near death, I had become used to grappling with the thing. Although every ride turned up a near miss, I became convinced that the sheer momentum of the manic machine would overcome all obstacles.
The boss took pity on me, of a kind, by sending me up to Manchester with an urgent delivery. When I left it was actually sunny, by the time I hit the motorway the fiercest storm of the year had commenced. The K100 was in a basic state of dress, after 50 miles I was soaked through and starting to shiver. It was impossible to ride past the artics, the huge plumes of spray they threw up were impenetrable.
The BMW weaved only slightly, which was surprising as the tyres were as worn out as the suspension. With the ton on the clock, stability was almost miraculous, exhaust note reassuring and vibes tolerable. Between 75 and 90mph, though, the vibration had shook the whole machine in a most uncivilised manner. It was impossible to ride within that speed range for any length of time. Naturally, I went faster rather than slower. The other alternative was to drop the bike down a gear and scream the engine near the red line, but on such a high mileage motor I felt caution was the better part of valour.
75 miles into the trip I had had enough. I turned around and headed for home. The boss was enraged when I went into work with the package in my hand the next day. Our conversation was brief and resulted in my joining the ranks of the unemployable. I didn't really mind, after the machine and running costs were taken into account, I was making hardly any money.
I went out to the bike only to find it toppled over. The centrestand had snapped. Damage was limited to a dented tank, broken lever and cracked plastic. The sidestand was highly dangerous, as well, obviously designed just for the UK market by some Kraut still disgruntled at losing the war - impossible to use whilst sat on the machine it also flips up on its own account if the weight of the bike is taken off it. The machine was both heavy and top heavy, so it was dead easy at the end of a day's hard work for the sidestand to cause rider and bike to topple over into a heap in the gutter. On one occasion my leg was trapped and I had to beg some pedestrians to lever the teutonic wonderbike off my bruised limb.
After the centrestand incident, the fuel injection unit started to malfunction with an horrendous amount of misfiring below 2000rpm. Like the rest of the machine, it was covered by several layers of protective crud. I had long since given up washing motorcycles. In London it was most disheartening to find a gleaming machine reduced to the appearance of a twenty year old hack after a day's despatching. Even the famed quality of the BMW's alloy had given into the corrosive effects of twentieth century air pollution. The dreaded white rash had arrived with a frenzy.
After losing my DR job, the Brick was given a much easier life. Where it had been doing a punishing thousand or so miles a week it rarely managed half that in a month, as I floated around the capital trying to persuade various potential employers that I was willing to spend the rest of my life working for a pittance. Things became so desperate after two months that I started looking for another DR job.
The weather had improved and my memories of spending the day sitting in wet underwear were fading. I was soon back into the cut and thrust of London traffic, which appeared to have become ever more frenzied. I had tried to sell the BMW a few times but no-one wanted to hand over two grand, even after I'd cleaned it up a bit. It looked like we were wedded together until one of us gave up the ghost.
The BMW had accumulated over 150,000 miles, running smoothly enough between 35 and 70mph. At lower revs the misfiring was still chronic and at higher speeds the vibes flowed freely through the machine. Where before it had smoothed out after 95mph it now just became worse, hinting that somewhere deep in the engine components were wearing out. Nevertheless, in town the usable speed range was ideal even if the 35mpg fuel economy was a bit frightening.
It was cheap to service, though. Basically, engine oil was changed every 5000 miles and the gearbox and shaft oil every 10,000 miles. I never got around to checking the valves, although they were easily accessible thanks to the laid down nature of the straight four engine. The fuel injector bank was in need of either adjustment or replacement, but as long as the bike still started and ran I was not that bothered.
I found it strange how many characters defects my riding skills could absorb. The terrible low running could be revved around. The heavy feel of the bike appeared to fade into the background, I felt my muscles expand to meet the power needed to throw the mammoth through the gaps in the traffic. Idiot lights that flicked on and off erratically provided moments of amusement on otherwise dreary days. The gearbox became worse than that of an ancient boxer twin but I had got the hang of it after a while and lived for the production of a perfect clunk-click every trip.
Even the mad machinations of the brakes, which probably needed new fluid and seals, if not replacement of the calipers, were soon acclimatized - the Russian roulette effect of not knowing if the brakes were going to come crashing on or deign to work at all enabled me to leave the machine unlocked. I was sure that after 50 yards the machine would either be abandoned or the thief on his way to hospital.
In this vein, the machine did another 24000 miles with hardly any attention, other than consumables, needed. BMWs are notoriously fickle with regards to tyres so I stuck with Metzs, riding being dangerous enough without having to worry over tyre grip. The rear lasted 6000, the front 9000 miles, which for such a heavy bike I thought reasonable. The front pads did around 10,000 miles.
With just over 174000 miles on the clock, the engine refused to run over 5000rpm or below 2000rpm. When I took the machine into one famous BMW dealer for diagnosis, the boss almost had a coronary, abusing me as if I'd raped his daughter. The fuel injector bank was worn out, there was hardly any compression in the engine, the camshafts were wobbling about on what was left of their bearings. The clutch, gearbox and shaft drive bearings were all in need of replacement. His quote for fixing the engine was nearly two grand, so I went out and bought a slightly used K100 motor for £1200 from a nearby breaker, complete with injectors and shaft drive.
The new motor has transformed the machine completely. However, the new turn of speed - 140mph on the clock - has shown up the worn out state of the suspension and the finicky nature of the brakes in an entirely new light. More money has to be spent but I'm not giving up on the machine. The teutonic quality has converted me to the BMW marque for life!
Keith Garland
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A three year old 1984 BMW K100 with only 8000 miles done had to be worth a look. One owner, the sort of enthusiast who kept his machine meticulously polished and never rode in the wet or cold. As much as I envied him his flash car and huge house I wasn't going to complain about the prime state of the BMW.
I listed the well known faults of early Ks - the discs cracking up, short-lived starter clutches and some electrical problems. Forgetting to mention that they would have been fixed under warranty. I soon convinced the yuppie that the characteristic engine whine was in fact the gearbox about to break up. Poor chap didn't know whether he was coming or going by the time I'd finished, admitting that he had always wondered why the box was so clunky.....gratefully accepting 1800 notes.
For a 1000cc DOHC four 90 horses at 8000 revs isn't much to write home about. Japanese 600s can better the top speed of the Beemer. What they can't do is match the gorgeous surge of torque from tickover right up to the 135mph top end.
Having had the gearbox fail twice this is just as well. Locked in top gear a traumatic amount of clutch slip was needed on take-offs and the shaft drive grumbled until 25mph or more was on the speedo. The first failure occurred at 74000 miles and the subsequent failure of the secondhand box 18000 miles later. Used boxes cost between £175 and £250. Takes one man about a day to do the swap.
The gearchange was never smooth but the aforementioned surplus of torque meant it was no great problem. Just sling it in a tall gear and use the throttle to roll on the power. After frenetic Jap fours the BMW is extraordinarily relaxed. That something so heavy, at 550lbs, can catapult up the road so rapidly always surprises me and brings a big grin to my face.
I wasn't so happy during the first few weeks. The tall seat, spongy suspension and jerky transmission meant I seemed to bounce from one point to the next in town. Appearing more like an accident looking for somewhere to happen than a smoothly ridden motorcycle. After about a month I had adapted to most of its strange ways - taking a perverse delight in letting friends have a spin. They usually came back grey-faced and all shook up.
The bike sat on motorways quite happily with anything up to 110mph on the clock. Beyond that, the slight weave goes wild, with the back end leaping all over the place and the bars trying to shake out of my hands. The latter was down to worn steering bearings - over the first 3000 miles they gradually became worse until the bike threatened to go into full-tilt speed wobble mode at a mere 30mph. An interesting if highly dangerous way to work-out. Replacement of the bearings and rear shock did a lot to make the Brick more stable. It would sit at 120mph without too much craziness on flat, smooth motorways but there were a lot of horrors that could be unleashed by a bumpy road at ton plus speeds.
What it couldn't cure was an excessive amount of muscle needed in the tight stuff. Try to ride it like a Yamaha stroker and the lump would literally end up tied in knots, threatening to bludgeon its way off the road. Not helped by the way the brakes worked - sometimes smooth and strong, others weak and jerky. The discs themselves started to crack up at 19000 miles, repeating this trick three times before breaching the 100,000 mile barrier. The calipers resisted seizing up even in the worst of the winter weather, lasted about 40,000 miles before needing a strip down. Pad life varied between 8000 and 12000 miles.
One quite amazing aspect of the engine is that with 110,000 miles done so far it has needed no serious attention. I started out checking the valves every 5000 miles - no change. So, I left them for 10,000 miles - no change. In fact, I haven't had to adjust them at all in all the miles I've done on the bike. With electronic fuel management and ignition there's not much to do to the motor save change the oil and filters. I'm overwhelmed by the toughness of the mill.
Even now I don't have any qualms about sticking my tent on the back and hustling off into the distance for a couple of weeks touring. The last such adventure saw me heading for France and ending up in Portugal. All I did was follow my nose....if a road looked interesting I took it. In Brick terms an exciting road is one that is wide, smooth and fast, of which France had a multitude (quite often deserted). In Spain the roads were narrower and rougher, which played havoc with the Beemer's suspension and nearly threw me off the side of a mountain when the tyre picked up a nail.
One thing to look out for is the way the Metz tyres will pick up punctures once down to about 3mm of tread. I've had about ten in all on the Brick, which is ten too many. Tyre life is impressive for such a heavy bike - 10,000 to 17,000 miles. TZR125 owners eat yer heart out.
Comfort is, as expected from a BMW, good, although the seat has of late gone a tad hard. The riding position is as good for sliding through heavy traffic as it is for a couple of hours on the motorway. Vibration was surprisingly heavy at 70mph in top but after 20,000 miles it either faded away into my subconscious or the motor wore into itself. There's still a slight buzz at most revs but it doesn't lead to any fatigue. Vibration levels seem to vary from bike to bike, perhaps a function of how the engine has been run in.
The fuel tank doesn't hold much more than four gallons of petrol which is good for about 130 miles before some frantic searching for a gas station is necessary. Fuel ranges from 35 to 50mpg, usually doing better than 40mpg. It takes 100mph plus cruising to get it down to 35mpg. I would've like a 200 mile range as the BMW is comfortable for that kind of mileage.
I haven't actually fallen off the BMW but once had to ride it across a roundabout when some jerk-off artist decided it was necessary to slam on his brakes for no apparent reason. Hitting the raised stonework of the roundabout, sickening tremors hit the chassis as each wheel made contact. On the grass I was soon convinced that the Brick had no hope of making a career as a trailster. Only stayed on board by controlling the slewing beast with both feet down, almost catching my foot in the earth, which would've broken my leg. Thumping back on to the tarmac, the car nowhere in sight, the Brick felt like the forks and frame were bent way out of line.
I pulled over before I threw up or fell off. Both cast wheels were badly mangled. As I only had third party insurance I had to buy a used set.....took about a month to track a pair down, they are apparently very fragile and therefore rare in breakers. The breaker persuaded me that a complete new front end would transform the feel of the BMW, which with 65000 miles done was becoming more and more like an out of control blancmange. The forks had stiffer springs which made it feel better through fast bends. It still wasn't an impressive bike to hustle through country roads at excessive speed. I had to potter along like an old codger, enjoying the quiet beat of the purring motor.
The paint still looks the business, although I've had to patch up the odd bit of frame. The wheel and engine finish is more problematic, needing lots of attention in the winter. I've got into the habit of doing a thorough clean and polish every month - the way the engine still whirrs away reliably it would be churlish to neglect the basics.
As I know Brick owners who have easily cracked the 200,000 mile mark, I suspect there is still plenty of life left in my machine. I don't see any reason to sell it for the next five years.
Adrian Thomas
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There are two ways of looking at a five year old '83 K100 with 103,000 miles on the clock. The sensible one is to dismiss it as an old dog on its last legs and walk away in disgust. The other way is to see it as being just run in, having had time to sort out all the problems, upgrade the suspension and make manifold minor mods in line with its singular, mature owner. Reams have been written about BMWs being the quality option and going around the clock several times with nothing more than the odd service.
I was veering towards the latter theory until I had the test ride. In the lower gears the engine vibrated harshly and the steering was as vague as the well knackered step-thru on which I'd made my dignified arrival. 2000 notes for that? No way, mate. Unfortunately, he had my phone number and got hold of me two weeks later, demanding I make an offer for the four cylinder slug. Just to get rid of him I suggested £750. Silly boy, that was how I ended up with a Brick that I didn't really want.
I consoled myself with the thought that I could always bung in a newish motor if it blew up. I did an oil and filter change but had no intention of touching either the fuel injectors or the valves. The new oil did nothing to diminish the teeth churning vibration but helped with the gearbox which previously had more false neutrals than working gears.
BMW gearboxes have always been agricultural, more than 100,000 miles had left this one as devious as my step-thru, with the same kind of lurches, clanging noises and vindictive non-selection of gears. It always seemed to snick into a false neutral just as I was charging for a gap in traffic. I don't know who had the largest screaming fit, the engine strung out at max revs in a false neutral or myself full of visions of simultaneously having both legs amputated at a combined closing speed of 120mph! Ouch!
Somehow, desperate muscles worked magic on the reluctant 550lbs of metal and I levered it on to a more sane course. Normally, it was a slow steering carthorse which if it wasn't given advanced warning of a change in direction would try to throw you off its back, courtesy of wobbles redolent of a camel being humped by an elephant.
Well, the suspension, though uprated at each end, was tired out. It seemed outraged when I loaded it up with all my camping gear, the springs compressing so far that I lost a good three inches in seat height. A newish rear shock was hurriedly acquired from the breaker/thief and half the essential gear dumped. Ultra thick rubber on bars and pegs helped diminish the vibes to a tolerable level and age could not hide the basic excellence of the riding position.
90 to 100mph cruising was still possible, if you ignored the need for a whole lane to weave in and knocked off 30mph every time a hint of a corner appeared. The Brick just didn't like to lean over, mostly down to the 1mm of tread left on the Metzelers. By the time I reached Glasgow (from London, motorway most of the way) the carcass was showing at both ends and an enjoyable day was wasted swapping abuse with various breakers.
I ended up with a front Pirelli and rear Conti, a mismatch of tyres that was fine up to 90mph, but then allowed the chassis to tank-slap like a Vincent with loose front fork bushes. Put it this way, you experienced it once and made damn sure it didn't happen again. Tyre wear was rather good for such a huge monster, both ends doing over 10,000 miles even on slightly worn tyres.
New Metzelers are the answer to much of the Brick's handling problems, though it's never transformed into a light, precise device it does calm down much of the madness and thus shod I was able to push the worn out cycle to a creditable 140mph - my vision was blurred from the vibes and my stomach queasy from the bouncing about. Cruising at the ton was much more sensible, the K100 one of the few naked bikes that allows this in something approaching comfort.
Braking was terrible, totally out of place on such a heavy, vague but powerful beast. New, the twin front discs might've worked, but with 100,000 miles under their belt they had a violent on-off action, that in the wet made it astonishingly easy to make the worn out front rubber go into heart stopping, knee-cap breaking slides.
By the time the engine had pushed the BMW to 120,000 miles I was so fed up with the whole front end that I spent most mornings phoning around breakers (it was more interesting than working), eventually ending up with a complete '87 K100 front end. I could've bought quite a reasonable hack for the amount of dosh it cost, but it was money well spent as it completely transformed both the braking and the handling.
I kept ignoring the valves and injectors but did 2000 mile oil changes as if my life depended on it. Finish was still good, with only a bit of mottled alloy on the back wheel (the single drawback of not having gallons of oil thrown off a chain). The rear caliper had come seized up and I never got around to freeing it, knowing a dodgy MOT tester.
The only real expense was fuel at 40mpg, which was expected and understandable given the mileage and the probability that the injectors had never been touched. New ones did 45 to 50mpg, so the wear and neglect hadn't had that bad an effect. The engine coughed and smoked on starting up, but cleared up after five minutes and settled down to a civilised tickover; the only real sign of mileage being the vibes, although even new ones are mildly afflicted.
Much to my surprise, I found myself actually enjoying riding the big Brick. Even in town, despite its mass and slow steering, the riding position was so good and the torque so plentiful, that I could hurtle along with the 125 pilots, who usually looked over their shoulders full of horror and wonder at the old geezer on the massive brute of a bouncing Brick. As soon as a bit of speed was involved, the K shone through, with its relaxed cruising ability and bulletproof engine.
After four years and 155,000 miles on the clock I was wondering what the hell was going down. The old dear, despite nothing more than regular oil changes, was whirring away with all the verve of a new bike. Eh? Well, I'd become so used to its characteristics that I subconsciously compensated for them and the vibration had been so assimilated that it no longer intruded. Only a ruined back wheel bearing at 140,000 miles showed signs of mortality - don't ever try to do more than 20mph on a K100 with a wrecked wheel bearing. I did and I ended up in a ditch with the bloody bike on top of me. When it was finally pulled off (by no less than three heavily built youths), there was a perfect foot deep impression of my body left in the ground - at least it saved me from any broken bones.
Two years later I put the bike into semi-retirement with 180,000 miles on the clock! She still runs quite well, would probably crack the 200,000 mile mark if I had a mind to, but my one year old K100RS now does all my serious mileage. I must say, the old K100 was the best bargain buy I've ever had but the newer Bricks are even better - smoother and easier handling.
There are quite a few old Bricks available for £1000 to £1500. Chances are they will be a bit rough, especially in the chassis, but they should keep rolling for a surprising mileage and once sorted out they are cheap to run for such huge brutes. Anyone who wants a long distance tourer on the cheap could do a lot worse.
Garreth Eeinbright