If anyone had ever suggested that I would one day own a BMW I would've laughed at them. I had just destroyed my GSXR750 on the race track, which was partly instrumental in my getting the sack from a job programming machine tools, when I saw an advert for despatch riders in the local newspaper. The next day, I went to have a chat with the company boss, and if I could get a bike within the week, the job was mine.
On Friday, I was the first at the newsagent to get my copy of the local Autotrader to try to find a bike. My mate had wisely refused to lend me his spare CX500. The most obvious choice was an S reg BMW R80/7 for £750. I phoned up and the bike was only ten miles away. The owner said that it would go to the first person who turned up with some cash.
Pronto to the Abbey National and straight over to view the bike. Well, it wasn't a particularly endearing sight, looking very shabby, as it had been standing at the back of a garage for several years. Then damp had got to it and the alloy was pretty corroded and generally rusty on the unprotected metal parts.
After nearly flattening his car battery, the vendor coaxed the BMW into life using jump leads. Once warmed up, it sounded reasonably healthy and on close inspection looked pretty genuine with 65000 miles on the clock. It had a Polaris fairing and Krauser panniers which seemed just what was needed, though not really my style at all. The short test ride only confirmed that the brake pads were worn out and that it handled in a ponderous manner. Meanwhile, the chap's phone was red hot so I had to make a decision there and then. I think that actually the price was pretty fair but as I had the cash, £650 was accepted and I arranged to collect the bike a few days later. Here started the most exhilarating eight weeks work I have ever done.
On arrival home I gave the bike a really good clean and was quite surprised at how well it tidied up. An MOT was arranged and I set about fixing the obvious failings. New battery (pattern one, silly), brake pads (ditto) and Metzeler tyres (real ones). The MOT was at a big Jap plastic supermarket and on returning after the specified hour, I was told that they were ordering a new pair of front discs, as they were rather grooved and that the brakes were too inefficient to pass, plus several other stupid things that would, if I bought them, help to keep the boss's Merc on the road. I told them politely where to go and rode off without paying. The next day it passed at the local back street bike shop. A good service to all the mechanicals and oils and we were in business. As a fairly experienced rider, I had some reasonable motorcycle clothing and decided to wear my racing leathers as standard gear, as there seemed a reasonable chance of falling off.
This was it! I was ready to go. The September weather was reasonably mild and dry, perfect for biking - and getting paid for doing it - what more could I want? Well, to be rich, in bed with my girlfriend and not to own a BM.....My boss gave me a talk about some regular routes that they used, delivering photographs to estate agents all over the West Country. I tried to follow some of his explanations, although I didn't actually take in very much. I was allowed to start with a few simple trips, one of which, in the first few days taught me that I would need more than just a road atlas. This was after having gone round and round Plymouth, thinking that I could pop into any estate agent to get directions or a photocopy of a street plan.....and actually being promptly told to piss off. It was no good - I ended up with a pannier full of A-Z's and County Red Books, all paid for out of my own reluctant pocket.
I started off by trying to be a sensible little motorcyclist, not overtaking on white lines, using my indicators, not getting annoyed by Volvos and not doing more than twice the speed limit in towns. However, I soon discovered that the job was a severe test of self discipline and the only real restraint was to be very alert to the police, as despatching must surely be the easiest possible way to lose your licence, if not your mind. I even fitted a pair of mirrors to the bike - something I have never, ever done in the remote past.
So far, the bike hadn't been out in any serious rain, but when it came I didn't envisage any problems. After all, this was the optimum motorcycle that only the elite rode. Yes, even BMW riders were waving at me - rather worrying as I might be thought as one of those absolute prats that don't acknowledge that any other motorcycle exists - beaten only by Harley owners who aren't even motorcyclists, but slaves to a very peculiar brand of fashion which they seem to consider alternative.
Anyway, it was pissing down this particular day, when my dubious R80 suddenly cut out totally. Leaving me, fortunately, only a mile to walk to a phone. The AA duly arrived and had the front of the engine apart in seconds. 'Bound to be water in the points, mate,' he insisted. After an hour of getting progressively colder and wetter, he admitted that he couldn't find any points and thought it might have electronic ignition, into which he emptied a can of WD40 to no avail. 'Better call the relay - they will only be three hours.' At least he dropped me at a cafe to wait.
Once at home, I discovered that the bike had been fitted with electronic ignition which had an optical sensor and so had to be clean and dry to work. What a stupid place to put the ignition, in front of the engine where an excess of crap could get to it. Anyway, when cleaned it worked again. It wasn't a job that could really have been done at the roadside in the rain. Shortly afterwards, the starter motor's solenoid became intermittent, which was embarrassing as well as inconvenient because starting the BM was like trying to push-start a lorry.
By then, I was allowed to venture further afield, doing 200 mile regular trips, though on some of my first forays to Bristol I got hopelessly lost around the suburbs whilst trying to find some pretty obscure addresses. I had a near disaster on one occasion. When riding merrily through the city, I noticed people waving and cars honking at me. Looking around, I was horrified to see that one of the panniers had dropped open and all the parcels of photographs were bouncing around in the horizontal lid. Incredibly, none were missing but I subsequently fitted bungees around the panniers as insurance.
The intermittent starter motor had become a real pain, and with an evening's investigation I managed to discover a broken wire on a solenoid winding, which when soldered gave no further problems. Meanwhile, the AA had delivered me home for the second time with water in the ignition, which was finally cured with a tube of bath sealant. I made a point of changing the oils regularly and was glad that there was no chain to adjust and lube every day - a very definite plus point. Not so brilliant was the 45mpg on four star. I think this is very poor and still don't understand why anyone would go touring any distance on such a gas guzzler.
By now, my riding had become rather spirited and another new rear tyre was needed at 5000 miles. Some regular routes around North Devon had superb empty A-roads which allowed me to explore the handling capabilities of the bike and personal limits of fear. This was where I yearned for a machine with real road manners and ground clearance as the R80 was becoming seriously chafed underneath. Unfortunately, this was the only way that I managed to make a boring machine enjoyable - by pushing it to its absolute limits. How long could this last?
There were still interesting moments which most despatchers must encounter, like nearly dying of heat exhaustion whilst walking around a department store in full leathers, helmet and waterproofs trying to find the offices (always on the top floor). Or how about becoming solidly wedged between two cars by the panniers when going for pole position at the lights? Of course, there's always the quick dodge the wrong way down a one-way street or chasing ped's through a pedestrian precinct....
The first real argument with a car occurred after about five weeks whilst taking a short cut across country in the dark, mist and rain with a steamy visor.......You know the scene. I made to go straight towards what looked like a village centre crossroads, which was instead the side of a Montego. The old boys in the car were actually quite amiable and politely pointed out that the main road actually made a ninety degree turn at this point. The most damaged article was the car which had a creased wing, whilst the bike was laying gracefully on its crash bars and was unscathed. As was, indeed, myself. Oh well, these things were probably just an occupational hazard.
The weather was deteriorating now; a good test of the waterproofs for them to be out in the rain for eight to ten hours. The most annoying thing was that no matter how good a jacket and gloves, as soon as you slowed down or got off the bike, water ran down the sleeves into the cuffs of the gloves, eventually becoming just as cold and wet as the outside. I found a Vee-wipe on the gloves essential for a clear visor, and Derrie boots were excellent - but you should smell the insides after a day's work! Of course, taking a leak was always a hassle and one reason why I won't entertain a one-piece waterproof suit (having to use a leg pocket as a colostomy bag).
By this time, I was such a veteran that I was allowed to go as far afield as London. A culture shock to a country boy such as myself. Anyone who works there must either be very desperate for money or never known any other way of life. I narrowly avoided crashing into the back of a five mile long queue of cars that were stationary on the M4 approaching the city - a good job that I was on the bike or the job would have taken forever. After quite a few false trails, I made the delivery, joining the mad rush hour rat race. God, you really need your wits about you to survive for long on a bike there. On the way back, the headlamp dip beam blew, so it was either I didn't see where I went on the pilot light or other drivers were blinded by the main beam. Guess what won?
Some deliveries were in just the opposite type of setting, which made the job more interesting. There were lots of deliveries to farms at the end of rutted, muddy tracks in the middle of yonder, and which entailed literally knocking on doors to ask directions, especially when trying to find the more obscure villages.
With the winter starting to set in, and roads more wet than dry, it became good sport to see how far I could push the bike in the wet on familiar roads. It was surprising how much lean could be achieved before starting to slide and there was generally plenty of feedback before the tyres lost their grip. This also applies to heavy braking. I have a lot of off-road experience, so it never bothers me when traction's lost. I don't think that very many bikers ride anywhere near the possible limits.
However, as you can see my downfall was in sight. It happened on a most familiar stretch of road for which I had developed a real contempt. All cars were there to be overtaken and this was the one too many. I vividly remember exiting a series of fast, blind bends on to a long straight that had a staggered crossroads exactly where the straight started. As the straight came into view, I flipped the sparking Beemer upright, a car was at the junction on the same course as me, so with an indiscernible movement I went to overtake.
The car turned right! There was no sensation of panic, just of absolute incredulity that the silly bitch hadn't seen me and hadn't bothered to indicate as I could've gone either side. There was an horrendous bang and I was ejected through the air, landing on a grass embankment which was where the bike also finished up. I lay totally winded for a few minutes, getting up enough energy to let fly with all the most damning language I could on the petrified girl, who was tentatively asking if I was alright.
Well, that was the third time the AA got the bike home. This time with me in an ambulance. My immediate hopes were to carry on despatching, but later, common sense told me to find a proper job. The bike was only lightly damaged and soon repaired, tidied up and sold very easily for what I'd paid. My DAS insurance got me several sessions with a solicitor until Miss-I-Don't-Indicate produced a witness to testify against me. That was the end of my short life as a despatcher. A year later I stopped at the scene of my crash. In retrospect, it was an absolutely stupid place to try an overtaking manoeuvre.
This may be a tame saga to a lot of long standing motorcycle couriers but a great experience for me and I would recommend it to any experienced biker who at least should have a go, although I think it could be suicide for a learner.
Some conclusions to be drawn must include the fact that shaft drive is a good idea, that you shouldn't tell your insurance company what you're doing, that you have a life expectancy like that of a first World War pilot, that it helps to be mad and irresponsible, and that it's a good idea to join the AA and carry a donor card.
Des Patcher
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My father rather shocked us all by buying a BMW R80GS. A BMW fine, no problem, but a glitzy trail bike, surely not. His only defence was that he acquired it at a bargain price and he rather liked the upright riding position. So did I. It was a ten year old bike, despite having only done 16 thou the gearchange was such a mess that the old man couldn't get the hang of it. I had the Beemer for a week and the chance of buying it if I could master its peculiar traits.
The most obvious was the malicious gearchange and resulting shaft lurching. A rising rear end could combine with a snaking back wheel to cause some spectacular take-offs that had pedestrians running for cover and cagers cringing in horror. Putting the box into a false neutral when changing into second was the next trick. Finally hitting home on that gear at the wrong revs sent tremors through the frame that made me think the engine was going to leap right out.
It sort of shuffled slightly sideways at tickover, didn't smooth out until at least 3000 revs were up, when at least some serious power was developed. The trick was to take my time over the gearchange whilst putting the box into third at the earliest opportunity; changes into fourth and fifth once the BMW had a bit of momentum under its wheels were relatively straightforward if not entirely free of clunking.
After the first week I thought I could live with the machine, little did I know that it was going to get back at me with a violent vengeance. Anyway, I handed over some dosh to my much relieved old man and gave the old girl a cursory service and random nut tightening just to start out in the right way.
I'd always admired BMWs, the first month was more fun than horror. I was caught out by the width of the cylinders a couple of times; the frantic braking and swerving that resulted left the boxer bouncing all over the road on its long travel suspension and almost emptied my bladder a couple of times. But as time passed I was becoming used to the engine shuffle and gearbox lurches, enjoyed the sensible low speed power and the easy leverage allowed by the wide trail bars and low centre of gravity.
Then, on a sunny Saturday, I left the city for a long weekend's blast up the country. Obviously, the trail biased riding position didn't work well above 75mph but 80, maybe even 85mph, could be held without too much shoulder strain. The 800cc flat twin motor was reasonably smooth at such rates of travel, an obscure thrumming was more reassuring than alarming.
There was still a little power in hand, useful when polishing off cagers that were in the way. Going with the flow of the road on several occasions I put 100mph on the clock, just long enough to taste the speed, backing off to more licence enduring velocities as soon as the vehicle was cleared. The single front disc when combined with the rear drum proved useful retardation whenever I had to rapidly lose some speed.
The only thing I could complain about for open road work was that I felt perched on rather than part of the machine. This feeling intensified when an open straight encouraged me to sneak past a dawdling auto at about 95mph. Just as I drew level with the civilian the bars shook viciously in my hands and before I'd even had time to blink we were deep into a speed wobble.
I sat there, as the BMW veered from side to side of its lane, as the bars wrenched from stop to stop with increasing force, thankful only that the cager had the sense to brake harshly. If he hadn't the BMW would've scraped off the side of his car. Suddenly, as if waking from a dream, I braked as hard as I could; fiercely enough to lock the wheels. After one almighty wobble that I thought was going to end it all we were back in the land of the sane. For the rest of the weekend I motored along way below 70mph, wondering just what kind of beast I had between my legs.
Close inspection of the singular rear shock revealed that its seals were leaking. I found someone willing to rebuild it for £25, which was by far the cheapest way of sorting the shock. I'd found the OE suspension slightly soft but usefully good at soaking up the pot-holes that resulted from council neglect of the town's roads. The single sided swinging arm looks rather frail but I suppose BMW must know what they're doing.
Tyres were Metz knobblies that gripped the ragged roads better than I had any right to expect. The GS could be heeled over right on to their edges without experiencing any of the queasiness that their type usually engenders. Wear was a lot more moderate than their pure road tyres, but I never owned a new one from start to finish, so can only guess they'd do 13 to 15000 miles.
Once I'd fixed the rear shock I gradually got my nerve back and did a few more 100mph sorties. Even when it didn't wobble there was always a small weave come 85mph; viewing the way other BMW back wheels bounced around was most discouraging but it didn't feel anywhere near as bad from the saddle. A petite pillion made no different to the handling nor the performance.
What could send the engine off was not doing the valves every 1500 miles. I did cane the motor in the lower gears which probably didn't help. There were only four valves which were easy to access and set. The carbs seemed to go out of balance quickly but didn't make the engine run obviously poorly; just ruined the already marginal 45mpg economy, diving down to 35mpg!
Carburation became even more gruff than normal when the collector box developed some large holes. Close inspection revealed that this was more weld than original metal. I had some sheet steel welded over what remained. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry when, some 1600 miles later, the steel sheet fell off as the metal to which it was welded turned to dust. OE systems are just a big rip-off as stainless steel replacements, so it took some creative use of the welding torch and some remnants of a car exhaust to make something that was going to last longer than the chancellor's promises. There's a slight hiccup at 3500rpm and about 50lbs more mass!
No sooner had I done this than it was the summer holiday. The GS didn't seemed overjoyed at being loaded up with a Transit's worth of essential junk. It lumbered along with a deep, sad exhaust note and a furious handlebar shake every time I tried to do more than 60mph. We did 2000 slow miles in two weeks, the poor old GS showing its age by the time we returned by cutting out on one cylinder. The massive carb was full of crud; strangely the other side was uncannily clean.
For a week I loaned the bike to my dad, his own machine nicked. At the end of the week I received a phone call, he'd messed up a gearchange, been hit by a car as a result. It was a slow speed collision so the damage was cosmetic, but with BMW prices that was expensive. I wasn't too bothered about originality, so saved the old man a packet by hitting the breakers for lights, switches and indicators off something else. I was never that impressed with the BMW originals so it was no great loss. One of the cylinders had, by the way, done massive damage to the side of the car whilst the old man escaped with nothing more than ruined pride.
Through the winter the BMW ran reliably, only starting on very cold mornings being a bit dodgy. I'd had to use jump leads from a neighbour's car a couple of times. The alloy wasn't any better than the Japanese stuff, corroding just as easily and the odd bit of paint fell off the frame. The front caliper required no attention, praise the Teutonic engineers. Despite it’s shaking fits the BMW usually felt secure on wet roads - maybe it was the low centre of gravity or the controllable power. Whatever, it was a nice change to be fully in control. Mileage wasn't too high as I only used it for commuting.
By the time the spring arrived I was completely the master of the boxer. The gearchange had become second nature, the low speed shuffle no longer intruded and the feral, base nature was endearing rather than annoying. A friend who had a quick ride described the GS as a ghastly, barbarous piece of rolling scrap. The MOT inspector had a similar view but couldn't actually find any point on which he could fail it. Father, after the accident, refused, naturally enough, to have anything to do with the dangerous toad. I kept telling anyone who would listen that BMW's are an acquired art.
The GS didn't take any notice of my lavish praise and indulgent pride. One of the exhaust downpipes cracked at the bend. I had to pull the system off to weld it, which caused the whole thing to fall apart. I ended up completely eliminating the collector box with several bits of tubing welded together. If I wanted to take over from Heath Robinson it had all the credentials but caused the engine to stop breathing above 6000 revs.
As the old girl was sporting 36000 miles it deserved a gentler life and, besides, the increased exhaust noise drowned out the timing chain rattle. Another common problem, the clutch, was also showing signs of age, becoming rather venomous. Puffs of smoke escaped out of the exhaust on the overrun, a sure sign the rings or valves were about due for replacement. Not too impressive for a marque that was supposed to go around the clock a couple of times, but I had given it a lot of abuse.
I was pleasantly amused when a local dealer offered me twice what I'd paid for it in part exchange for a nearly new R100GS, the one with the flash half fairing. A test ride revealed a world of difference between the bikes, over a decade's worth of improvements showed up the R80GS as the terrible old dog it really was. I doubt if the dealer made any profit on the deal, I later learnt the GS seized solid a week into its new ownership and the dealer had to take it back. He somewhat reluctantly sold me the remains for £250, so I'm going to do the resurrection shuffle on her, just for the sake of old times.
Graham Dee
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In 1987, having worked for a couple of years for a despatch firm on company BMWs (initially a R80RT and then a monoshock R80 with Rickman fairing) I decided to go self employed for the same company on a '81 CX500C. After about a fortnight of working on the Honda, it developed a misfire that made it practically unrideable.
The company was very busy and insisted I ride one of their Beemers. To cut a long story short, I liked this particular bike so much that I bought it in February '88. This machine was different from normal BMWs in that it was a police spec model purchased new from BMW in 1985. At the time, BMW had stopped making flat twins to devote all their effort to production of the bricks. The company that I worked for obtained permission to buy police spec bikes provided that they were painted a colour other than white.
My Beemer, when I bought it, had 77000 miles on its bores and Krauser panniers. Being police spec, it had a heavy duty battery, twin Fiamm horns, uprated forks and blanking off plates where the blue lights should have been. It's been serviced every 5000 miles without exception. The bike still started first press of the button even after winter weekends of being ignored.
I continued to religiously service it at the specified intervals and also added Molyslip to the engine and transmission. As well as the normal servicing, the Beemer also gets a major service at 40,000 miles intervals which involves the normal service plus replacing the exhaust valves, big-end bearings, throttle cables and the timing chain and tensioner.
The Beemer has now done 107,000 miles without any horrific breakdowns. It's on its second battery, its third clutch and set of silencers, its second alternator rotor, its third rear wheel bearings and its fifth front brake switch. The only real problem has been the gearbox. It has been stripped down and every bearing replaced five times now. I don't think kicking it through the gears in London traffic really helps.
I now think BMW twins are the best bikes around. Before having been forced into BMW riding and ownership, I had the typical view of BMWs being owned by boring old farts trying to pretend they are something they are not. However, now I consider them the best motorcycles available, If you're the old style of motorcyclist, who considers doing their own servicing a normal part of biking, then Beemers are probably the cheapest motorcycles around even allowing for the designer price tag. I would buy another one if I could ever afford it.
The first time I ever rode a R80RT, it felt like I was at the helm of a large yacht, sat within that huge cabin holding the tiller. As I grew used to it, I realised how nimble it was in contrast to its initial impression of bulk. I've followed another BMW around a tight left-hand bend and watched the rocker cover cut a furrow. I've seen some loonies mono-wheeling them in pre-paralever days. You can certainly surprise some owners of Japanese race-reps on fast, twisty A-roads.
For tyres I've remained a typical BMW owner and stuck with Metzelers. On the rear, I fit either a ME77 or, if I feel like a racer, a ME99, although you only really notice the extra grip in the wet. On the front, I fit the ME33, which does feel twitchy and nervous at times. At first I thought that it must be me and not the tyre, but I've since heard and read of other riders who've noticed this. Overall, with the police spec HD forks, the Beemer is a great handler as long as you remember that it is a shaftie.
It is certainly a classic DR machine. It's quick and agile in town, whilst motorways are what it was designed for in the first place. The twin front Brembos allow a degree of squirt and stop riding in heavy traffic that will leave lighter trail bike mounted DRs gasping in amazement. And, with a BMW you get the best of all worlds, a lithe nimble trailster in town, a quick agile sportster on twisty A roads and a Goldwing like mile eater on motorways.
It'll sit at 90mph all day and every day, giving about 180 miles between fuel stops. By adjusting the ignition timing, you can decide if you want to use four star, two star or on recent bikes unleaded. I've always run mine on four star because it gets better mileage and smoother running. Five years on-the-dot servicing have left their mark, though. The threads of the oil drain plugs on the gearbox, the shaft and the rear bevel are all shot. Still, the threads on some Japanese bikes I've serviced have been shot after half a turn.
Late in 1988, a diplomatic Merc in Knightsbridge turned right across me in torrential rain. I made a mistake, I braked. Down the lovely Beemer went. The Merc didn't stop but a police officer had witnessed it all, so eventually it went to court but I lost the case.
Shortly after the accident, the fairing on the bike began rattling. Closer inspection revealed lots of hairline cracks around the mounting holes. A CD plated Merc had put paid to a thousand pounds worth of teutonic GRP. The fairing came off but RT handlebars are high and painful without the protection of the plastic. It was a year before I got hold of a set of standard bars; you should see my biceps now, though.
After dark, in April 1989, I was returning home from work in a company van when I had an accident, leaving the bike outside the office. Six months later I came out of hospital and three months after that I tried to start the bike. The battery was flat, so out with the jump leads - it started second push of the button. I've since done an oil change and all it needs now is the threads of the oil drain plug repaired. The battery was shot and rather than get a mortgage for a Varta item, I've removed the air filter housing, fitted K & Ns, and dropped in a 32A car battery. The poor bike could go for another 50,000 miles without serious attention, but I think the beastie's gone through enough. A new mount beckons.
But after five years and 107,000 very inexpensive miles, what's going to replace the BMW and not be a let down. I don't want mega performance just hassle free mileage. I don't mind servicing my bikes but no crankshaft et al rebuilds, please. My experiences with Japanese bikes rules them out. MZs fit the bill nicely on paper but I don't like two strokes. The new MZ 500 with the Rotax engine looks very appealing, I'll have to wait to see one in the flesh.
The point this little essay has been trying to make is that, as cheap hacks, BMWs are underrated machines. If you are the sort of rider who isn't drawn by the sight of several acres of multi-coloured ABS, the BMW is a cheap to run, easy to live with, all-rounder, suited to mile eating, motorway runs, monotonous, urban commutes or weekend scratching. Honest!
Now for the end of novel figures. Top speed on the Beemer when it had a fairing was about 105mph. Naked, the figure increased to 110mph. Fuel consumption, faired or unfaired, has averaged out at around 45mpg and I'm definitely not a laid back rider. A minor service every 5000 miles requires oil and filter (about £7). A major 10,000 mile service requires engine oil, gearbox/transmission oil, oil filter, air filter element and a brace of spark plugs (£19 or less). A very cheap hack to run? I think so.
Andrew Brown
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I have just sold my second BMW R80. The first was a T reg R80/7, the second simply R80, a Y reg Motosport. Both were unfaired. Despite similar appearance and numerous interchangeable parts (as I later discovered) the differences were considerable in specification, performance and, most noticeably, braking.
The T reg machine was bought one Autumn in a very unhappy state and repaired over the winter that followed. New guides and rings cut oil consumption from 200mpp to negligible on the 50,000 mile engine. Fork seals were replaced and anti-dive springs from Ultimate Source were fitted. These are a must on a hard ridden boxer, as the originals are soft when new and quite hopeless when old. Marzocchis (which are far too hard) were put on the back. An amount of repainting and replating was done, a couple of cheap silencers, a new clutch cable and off we went.
None of the parts were hard to come by and none particularly expensive. The gaskets were a bit steep, at least I thought so until I discovered what the Japanese charge for gaskets these days.
The machine provided that reliable, methodical transport typical of BMW twins. The 1970's boxers have iron bores, heavy flywheels and ultra reliable points ignition. While not fast, about 110mph, they are much more flexible than later engines and can be driven briskly without much gear changing. The old type seats with the broad chrome grab rail are very comfortable; the switches are appalling, and the brakes are worse.
Early /5 models had a TLS drum at the front, but BMW abandoned this in favour of the infamous ATE swinging caliper discs. These brakes work indifferently at best and are real turds to set up, which is necessary every time the front fork is removed. The drum on the back, however, is a honey.
I had covered little over 5000 miles on this bike when I encountered a young woman taking daddy's new car for a drive. The BMW bloody nearly cut it in half, writing off itself and the five week old car. She was finally convicted of careless driving and I was paid off six months later for the BMW and a trip to the intensive care - don't ask, just believe me, it hurt. After dragging my duff leg around the TT on an RS250, I decided to buy a Honda GL1100, so came home and bought another R80.
Apart from some funky Motosport paint it was more or less standard, but in the five years between this and the /7 being made things had changed at BMW. The motor had chrome bores, Bosch electronic ignition and lighter flywheels. Consequently, it was relatively gutless at the bottom end but was much crisper, revved more freely and was considerably faster. An indicated 125mph must be taken with a pinch of salt, but quick just the same.
This one had the more common ducktail seat, a little higher than earlier models, but just as comfy. Some seats had a medical kit under the front which left them less than good, but the idea was soon dropped, My Y reg seat rotted away and was replaced with a GRP based replica which was a tad harder, but fine even over extended distances.
With Brembos at both ends the improvement in braking was a mixed blessing. While excellent at the front, the rear was somewhat overbraked. It felt wooden, was complex to maintain and the master cylinder was exposed to spray from the rear wheel, needing weekly hits with WD40 to keep things active. The older drum was more satisfactory in every respect and in due course BMW returned to it. The better front brake made the fork dive even more pronounced. Brake pad wear on both machines was modest, boxers are light machines, around 410lbs dry without a fairing, and the engine braking is prodigious.
This machine also had Marzocchis, but they were a much better pair, well matched to the bike. Despite this, it never handled so well as its predecessor, feeling loose at speed when solo and sometimes shaking its head violently on the overrun. Overtightening the headrace, a taper roller, improved matters, but was not a complete cure.
The older bike was solid at any speed and could be gunned hard down twisty roads with great pleasure, though the bone jarring shock would cause the back wheel to skip dramatically over bumpy going with the power hard on. Surprisingly, this had little effect on the tyre wear. 10,000 miles from a rear Avon AM21, a great tyre, and front tyres seeming immortal.
Fuel consumption was not such good news. Both averaged between 40 and 50mpg, usually towards the lower end of this. The all time low was 38mpg. On a long tour of France, the Motosport averaged 43mpg, fairly typical having spoken to other owners. Both machines demanded four star, though later monolever boxers and most K series will take unleaded. Oil changes are infrequent but fiddly. There are four lots oil to change - engine, gearbox, drive shaft and bevel box. Most aged boxers will have stripped threads on the bevel box level screw, so oil can only be checked by dropping it out, measuring and tipping it back in. Meanwhile, Araldite looks after the level screw.
Removing batteries from boxers can be a pain in every sense as they are a very smug fit between the frame rails, and they need to be in excellent condition if the bike is expected to start in winter.
The charging system can be quite marginal; a 100/80W bulb caused the charge light to glow dimly on main beam on the Y reg (but not the T). While new alternator brushes may have been in order (yes, BMW sell them separately) it was always like that and never grew any worse.While top speed is poor by modern standards, journey times can be startling. R80s will cruise in the nineties and have excellent comfort and range (200 mile-ish) making stops rare and brief.
Long service intervals and shaft drive also mean long distance tours can be done with nil maintenance required. I even gave up carrying tools after a while as neither of them ever broke down, and on the road failures were limited to a burnt out horn relay and two failed oil pressure switches.
Switches on the T reg were perverse, with an up and down flipper on the right for the indicators which never made sense to me. The Y reg was better with normal indicators and a handlebar choke, but the dipswitch was flimsy and the tiny indicator switch overcancelled easily once the thumb got cold. Oddly, these switches were the only Japanese components on it. I just wish they had gone shopping at Yamaha instead. Very recent boxers have the vastly superior K switchgear.
One very irksome oversight here was that both speedos were marked in mph only, with no inner ring of kph. Even my CD175 has kph marked. Fuel taps are prone to leaking, often cured with PTFE tape on the tank's gland nuts. Other leaks include the laughably inadequate O-rings pretending to be cylinder base gaskets and the conical rubber pushrod oil seals which can become hardened and weep slightly on old engines.
Mudguards and most of the rot prone parts are made from plastic, including the very solid sidepanels which are held on with a most unlikely looking elastic band. Other boxer oddities include a frame so old fashioned that the rear subframe is bolt on, instruments that can be removed in about a minute (the tacho is electronic and, similarly, the entire rear light/indicator requires removing two bolts and pulling a multiplug to take it off. Tool and glove boxes are large and the standard sidestand is a bad joke.
To make a boxer handle properly, it must be ridden as it demands, all braking and gearchanging done well in time and take the corner on a rising throttle. Any other approach will cause chronic understeer and have it bobbing about on its springs. Once mastered, cornering will become a smooth, fluid process.
I often read of owners who are terribly disappointed by boxers after buying them. I think some are expecting a gentleman's carriage of a bike, a limousine. This boxers are not, they are much more like a British bike with reliable electrics and shaft drive. They shudder about at tickover, gearchanging lacks subtlety at best and is crude at worst, and the whole device is a very straightforward, basic bit of technology. I have a K75 now, which is better in almost every respect; yet I miss that rawness of the unfaired boxer which others find so shocking in a bike so expensive.
Jon Everall
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Back in the mists of time I owned a BMW R60 for several years. My main memory of this machine is that it never let me down and ran with tireless consistency. This was a great revelation after years with unreliable British twins. Marriage had forced the sale of this machine whilst the mortgage and kids kept me off bikes in the intervening years.
When funds and time allowed me to come back into the motorcycle fray, it was pretty natural that I should look for another BMW. I could not tolerate anything Japanese, the Italian stuff was not trustworthy whilst Triumph had not yet launched their new bikes. Even if they had I could not have afforded one, as I was limited to around a thousand notes.
In 1988 the secondhand market was in pretty good shape, so it took about a month of reading MCN's classifieds until I picked up a 1979 BMW R80/7 for £975. Mileage was 34000 and general condition was fine, save for the odd bit of alloy corrosion. This was one of the first R80s, with the ATE caliper on the single front disc, spoke wheels and more classic Beemer lines than later models.
I had forgotten how interesting BMW gearboxes could be. It took about a week until I'd mastered the technique; even then there was an awful lot of clunking. As long as a bit of care was taken, accurate selection of the gears was possible. Messing up the revs when changing gears could produce some massive lurches as the shaft drive tried to tear itself out of the machine.
The R80 doesn't make much more than 50 horses but more than makes up for that by the way it develops a great gob of torque. Were it not for some shaft drive inspired roughness below 2000rpm, it'd probably run strongly from tickover up. As it was, the BMW pulled strongly from 40 to 100mph in top, with no need to fight through the agricultural gearbox. Cynics might suggest that the bike was designed so that use of the gearbox was minimised - and they might well be right!
The first 2400 miles were full of joy as I discovered the fun of motorcycling once again. I favoured the faster B-roads and minor A-roads, really enjoying swinging the Beemer through the bends. It did require a firm grip on the bars and careful setting up of the line, but these were requirements that came quite naturally to me. The suspension was quite firm, must have been tightened up by the previous owner.
The engine gave every impression of being bullet-proof, encouraging me to ride longer and longer distances. On one run there was a loud rattle coming from the engine, making sure I rode the 75 miles home in a most circumspect manner.
I feared that the engine was on the way out, with the main bearings going, but the local mechanic reassured me that it was probably just the timing chain. It was, but I was in for a bit of a shock as his first quote doubled - I had an endless duplex timing chain rather than the later split link single chain, which meant it took twice as long to replace. The rest of the engine was in good shape, according to the mechanic, so that was some consolation.
Apart from the silencers, that is. They didn't look too bad at a cursory glance, but had been craftily welded in several places. The bark of the boxer engine was pleasant enough when I bought the machine but by the time I'd done 4000 miles it was the cause of much anguish in my neighbourhood. I picked up a set of stainless steel silencers from MCN classifieds.
These helped on the fuel, which was hovering around 45mpg, extraordinarily poor when compared with the old R60, which usually managed to stay in the 60 to 70mpg range. With the stainless silencers it was now possible to better 50mpg but not by much.
About a month after this, the front end started going very vague. I pulled up the fork gaiters to find that the stanchions were well pitted with rust and the fork seals leaking. Not exactly what you'd call the quality option. As the front brake was horrible in the wet and not very powerful in the dry, it seemed like a good idea to buy a later set of forks with the Brembo calipers and twin front disc set-up.
It took a while to track down a good used set and then I had to pull them off when I discovered that the springs were very mushy. The old forks had heavy duty springs that were definitely necessary if the boxer was ridden in a spirited way.
The twin disc set-up was much superior in both the dry and the wet, although there was still a bit of brake lag it was at least predictable, unlike the ATE brake which would work or not according to some arcane set of rules I never managed to figure out.
There wasn't much else wrong with the machine so I set off for a summer adventure, hopping around the country in a random way, with a tent stuck on the pillion perch and a song in my heart. By the end of that trip there was nearly 45000 miles on the clock and the left-hand cylinder was smoking slightly. We got home okay, performance seemed just as good as normal, but it was obviously a situation that I did not want to develop.
It was a simple job to rip off the cylinder head. The fault lay with the exhaust valve, which was burnt around its edge. I had to buy a new one, as at that mileage it's not unknown for valves to drop on to the piston. What I could see of the bore looked fine and the rockers and tappets were in good shape.
The carbs were a bit annoying, as they went out of balance every 750 miles. I found I could tune them satisfactorily by ear, but it took about 30 minutes of fiddling around. When they went out of balance there was a noticeable increase in vibration. The motor normally shook in the frame at low revs like a disgruntled Labrador and the whole chassis thrummed once past the ton in top. Never was it impossible to forget that there was a big opposed twin sitting beneath my knees, but unlike the old British horrors no harm was done to the chassis.
At just over 51000 miles there was quite a lot of expense from the electrics. Bulbs started blowing, traced to the mechanical regulator. Once this was replaced the battery decided it could not hold very much charge. BMWs come with huge car-type batteries that are necessary to churn the reluctant engine over on cold winter mornings. The originals are obscenely expensive to replace, but its very size means a trip to Halfords is all that's necessary to find a cheap car replacement. I found that batteries rarely last for more than a year.
This new battery didn't hold a charge, either. The generator was suspect. I bought an exchange one, BMW prices leading to a long stream of expletives. For a couple of hundred miles everything seemed fine, then bulbs started blowing, the battery would not hold a charge, etc., etc. Turned out that some of the wiring had chaffed its way through its insulation and was shorting out - so much for fuses. I had to replace everything again and go over all the wiring.
The switches were a pleasure to use, even with thick leather gloves. The front light was the best I'd come across fitted to a motorcycle and even the horn was loud enough to cause cagers to drop a load in panic, thinking some huge vehicle was about to pound them into the dust in retribution at their ignorant behaviour.
The bike was a pleasure to use for the next 9000 miles, bringing the mileage up to 60,000. I'd used the BMW through the winter, as it saved a large amount of time commuting. I could have done with a fairing but the bike shrugged off the worst the weather had to offer - which was pretty bad with the odd bout of snow. Even on icy roads the BMW retained its stability.
Come the spring, the engine started to run roughly. It needed new spark plugs every 200 miles! I eventually got around to tearing the points cover off (they rarely needed attention), finding that the compartment was full of oil. The oil seal had blown. It was a bugger to extract and only went in with some abuse from my hammer, Araldite was used to repair the nicks in the casting! Feeling rich, I fitted some new BMW points, not wanting to trust cheaper patterns as they would probably demand more frequent attention. The ones I took out may well have come with the bike out of the factory.
Comfort was one of the great virtues of this bike. The riding position was the perfect compromise between use in town and on the open road. I could brace myself against the wind at 90mph in a quite comfortable manner, yet still happily shove the bike through town traffic. The seat still offers such comfort that I have had no thoughts about replacing it, whilst the fuel tank gives a range of over 200 miles.
The rugged functionality of this bike almost insists that you take it on long runs. I quite often got up an hour early to take a more interesting route into work. Once, coming home I was so invigorated by riding the R80 that I lost all sense of time, ending up about 200 miles from home before I realised what I'd done. By the time I got back the wife was in the throes of a panic attack, being comforted by a young, rather winsome, female police constable. It was rather hard explaining what had happened to these non-bikers - they appeared to agree that I should be locked away in the nearest mental institution!
At 66000 miles the clutch started to slip and judder viciously. It was a basketcase, so I was actually off the road for a couple of weeks whilst I tracked down a replacement. I wanted to avoid the later, lighter clutch, as although it helped the gearchange it destroyed much of the R80's friendly nature by making it more rev dependent. I did this job myself, having regained my faith in the my engineering abilities. Again, the clutch was probably the original item.
As 70,000 miles drew closer a spate of chassis bearings wearing out disturbed my faith in the machine's longevity. The first I knew of the steering head bearings going, was some pretty hairy head shaking when accelerating out of corners. Closely followed by both wheel bearings.
The way the back end stepped out all over the place had me momentarily convinced I was going senile, as it seemed I could no longer co-ordinate the gearchange and engine revs. Some heavy work with hammer and chisel soon had the malcontent bearings out. The bearing factor proved much cheaper than OE stuff, no surprise there.
They must have been quite worn for a while, for the R80 felt rock solid in its stability once back on the road. Decent tyres were necessary for good road-holding and stability. I tended to stick with Metzelers, if not the longest lasting tyres (about 8000 miles) they remained predictable even when badly worn. Pirellis felt quite frightening whilst Avons always felt like the bike was going to flop off the edge of the tyres. In both cases the tyres weren't new when I'd fitted them so my views may be unduly harsh.
I did have the back tyre blow once, which sent the chassis into an almighty wobble at about 75mph. Only by the skin of my teeth did I avoid being thrown off the beast which lurched all over the road. I had a spare innertube and set of tyre levers so did the business by the roadside. The alloy rims were a real bugger to work the tyre back on to but I managed it after bruising my knuckles and using up a lifetime's worth of curses.
Other amusing on the road incidents included the time I ran over a dog and the time the throttle grip came off in my hand. The former killed the dog dead in an instant and gave the bars one almighty twitch. The latter caused the engine to go back to tickover in the middle of a fast flow of traffic whilst the bike veered off towards the grass verge. I let the throttle fall away and grabbed hold of the bar again, managing to skid off the road out of the way of descending traffic.
Rather strangely, over the past year, with nearly 90,000 miles done, the bike has behaved itself impeccably, with only the consumables needing replacement. It may just be the calm before the storm.
About six months ago I bought a used RS fairing for £200 and spent a weekend getting this to fit on. The narrow bars that are necessary upset my wrist muscles but I did enjoy the way the BMW could roar along at 100mph as if it was 70mph. It was quite easy to do 110mph, something that had previously required rather too much effort.
Top speed when I first had the bike was 120mph on the clock, but lately I did not like to cane the engine to that extent, and, besides, the vibes soon proved tiresome. The only thing badly affected by the RS fairing was the fuel, which was stuck back in the 40 to 45mpg range. If I only used the bike in town I would not bother with the RS plastic, but for long distance work it is a good investment.
There are, of course, lots of goodies for BMWs, both from the factory and outside suppliers. Just looking through the Ultimate Source catalogue gets all kinds of interesting ideas in my head. However, the wife barely tolerates my addiction to motorcycles and would go berserk were I to spend serious money on non-essential accessories.
I've managed to avoid any crashes, although I am by no means a slow rider. The boxer has fallen over twice due to the stupid design of the sidestand, but the cylinder heads took most of the fall without any serious damage. Even the centrestand could be better designed.
I suppose I'm quite biased in the BMW's favour and to many its quirks would not be tolerated. That's okay, I would find a lot more to complain about similarly aged Japanese bikes. I've had my fair share of problems, that rather dent the BMW's image as ultra reliable tackle, but it's never been anything too major. She almost seems to get better as she gets older and I hope to have another four years of fun packed riding out of her.
Leon Carlise