“You want two grand for that?” I wasn't very happy, having travelled a 100 miles to see what was supposed to be an immaculate bike only to find an old rat. A 1963 model that had gone around the clock at least three times and showed it. It was pretty obvious that the vendor was one of those back street dealers, motorcycling’s answer to Arthur Daley. He kept telling me it was a classic bike and that a quick clean would get it shining.
It was original, complete and the engine ran or rather clattered. A new MOT and six months road tax were sweeteners. I offered £500, saying the crank bearings had obviously gone and it would need stripping right down. Cost a fortune to rebuild, what with BMW prices and its rarity. He reckoned otherwise, reckoned £1750 would be a fair deal. I started to walk away, after a lot more haggling got the bike for £800.
There was the minor problem of getting the BMW home. Nothing for it but to ride it, the AA could always collect me if it broke down en route. The 494cc boxer motor started easily on the strangely mounted pedal (at a right angle to the normal direction), chuffed, chuffed reassuringly except for some rattles that seemed to come from the cylinder heads. The first job once safely home would be to sort the valve clearances.
As might be expected from an ancient, high mileage BMW, the gearbox was utterly horrible. First engaged with a massive clunk that shook the whole machine. The combination of a crankshaft mounted clutch and heavy flywheel meant that the clutch takeup was as rapid as it was vicious.
The bike bounced forward with a wrench that almost tore my arm sockets out. The shaft drive whirred away noisily as we cantered onwards, a hell of a lot of noise and trouble occurring when I tried to change up to second. By the time I made the gear, speed was down to a walking pace but the mild engine, that peaked out at 6000 revs, had the kind of flat torque curve that could take such incompetence.
For the first couple of miles my fight with the gearbox obscured any other sensations. When I finally clonked into fourth (I'm actually a very experienced boxer rider...) I began to realise that the Beemer tracked pretty well and still made a good job of absorbing the bumps. It had Earles type front forks, which was basically a swinging arm attached to the lower end of the front fork tubes. This had a heavy, rather remote feel but rode with an almost modern sophistication. The rear end of the frame looked distinctly vintage, as if BMW had taken a thirties frame and added a cross-brace on each side to hold the swinging arm (BMW were first to fit rear suspension).
The R50 rode along the country roads at a stately 70mph without any apparent problems. It felt quite similar to an R75 I once owned, although it wouldn't match that bike’s speed or acceleration, it had the same ability to dial in a speed in top gear and hold it against steep hills. Rolling up to my front door in just over 90 minutes I felt rather pleased with myself.
The next day I adjusted the valves, which were way out, and dosed the engine and chassis in Gunk. It had a terrible layer of muck over it but I'd run a finger along a frame rail to find that it seemed to be covered in grease which had become encrusted with dirt, revealing faded but intact frame paint. I put the cylinder head covers back on whilst I was waiting for the cleaner to do its magic. The bike had new cables and tyres, so I was hoping it had recently been taken out of storage.
After ten minutes with the high pressure hose, all was revealed. 29 years worth of fade and ageing had left the bike with heavily tarnished engine alloy and paint that was more dull grey than black. There was very little rust, a testament to the original build quality and after about two months of nightly and weekend application of Solvol the alloy was once again shining.
There were some problems. The air filter was missing, the brake shoes were almost worn out and I could feel a little play in the front fork's swinging arm, lateral rather than torsional, so fixed with a couple of spacers. The brake shoes were acquired by writing off to a friend in Germany who happened to work in Munich. I ended up making my own air filter by cutting up and gluing a cheap car filter. it worked fine, more down to the mild state of engine tune than any special artistry on my part.
One thing I hated about the BMW was the centre stand, it required an herculean effort to get the bike up on the stand, with so much body weight balanced on the prong that it would only take a moment’s inattention to fall over. With a mass of 420lbs the R50 was lighter than it looked, but still too heavy for that kind of foolishness. One very neat touch was the toolbox hidden in the petrol tank, where I'd found the original toolkit. The left hand knee-rubber hinged down to reveal a usefully sized compartment inside the petrol tank. It blends so well with the tank that unless you knew about it you'd never guess it was there.
The most temperamental part of the engine was the carbs, a pair of Bings that never really seemed to be in balance. They would also drop the occasional bowl full of petrol over the ground. Despite that, the BMW was turning in a quite respectable 60 to 65mpg. After I'd done the valve clearances the engine was easily as quiet as a more modern boxer, with the whirr of gears and bearings plus the faint rustle of the valves. That was the effect from the saddle, close up it wasn't quite so impressive. The saddle was one of the most comfortable I'd come across in a long time, although had it been an inch or two lower I would've felt more part of the machine rather than merely perched on it. The bar/peg relationship showed that even in the sixties BMW knew a lot more about ergonomics than most; as comfortable in town as it was on the open road.
There was no way I was going to push my luck by trying for the top speed, but a few brief bursts to 90mph didn’t cause any damage, or even a frenzy of vibration. 70mph cruising in top had the motor turning over at a mild 4500rpm, whilst 80mph equated to just over 5000 revs. The engine seemed capable of holding the latter speed relentlessly, but I usually limited myself to an even more contented 75mph.
No amount of patience and practice on my part enabled me to master the diabolical gearbox, even though I've never had any trouble with modern boxers. I met two other R50 owners who both admitted their boxes were a bit of bastard. One was quite smug about it, as some youth had tried to steal it, only getting to the bottom of the street before deciding that the better part of valour would be to abandon the old heap. The viciousness of the clutch I did develop some feel for, it improved a lot when I replaced the warped clutch plate but could still catch out the unwary. Had the motor been anything other than soft in its power delivery then the clutch might've been a bit of a killer.
Top gear could be used down to 10mph, which made up for the poor gearbox. Anywhere other than in town I tended to ride along majestically in top. Acceleration was pretty slow up to 30mph, but not really any worse than going up and down the gearbox as so much time was wasted any additional acceleration was only theoretical. The BMW had one of those lazy engines that encouraged a laid back, slowish style of biking. Trolling along at 30 to 40mph it returned about 90mpg.
As mentioned, the steering was heavy but the suspension relatively sophisticated. That meant the bike liked to be lined up in advance for bends and would nod its head a bit if a sudden change of direction was attempted. Backing off the throttle, when banked over, really messed up the bike’s poise, the shaft drive reacting against the suspension and the tyres threatening to skip off the road. It was much better to use the brakes gently.
The BMW had a powerful TLS front drum that sometimes caught me out. The unconventional front forks made it quite hard to feel what the brake was doing and the servo effect of the twin leading shoe set up could lock up the wheel rather too quickly for my liking. The worn out shoes had been more gradual in their application, the replacements might've been a grade or two harder. As I never pushed the limits of the chassis, brake fade was not a problem.
No, I much preferred to enjoy the almost vintage charm of the R50 than rush around everywhere like a maniac. If it wasn't the fastest device between two points it must've been one of the most comfortable. With a range of over 200 miles before reserve I felt no qualms about sitting in the saddle for a few hours, not needing anything more than the walk to the cashier’s office during fuel stops before throwing a leg back over the BMW.
As might be gathered I'm rather pleased with my purchase, even more so since it's added 22000 miles in eighteen months to the already substantial total on the clock. All I've had to do is regular maintenance, about an hour every month. The one area where it's let down is the Bosch 6V electrics, with a pathetic 35 watt headlamp and a pretty minimal rear light that flickered at tick over despite fitment of a new battery. I've had to put new brushes in the dynamo twice, partially because I chose to file some car brushes rather than fit the expensive BMW originals, but dynamos are notoriously unreliable and totally out of place in a BMW. The sparks are supplied by a separate magneto, so the bike can still be ridden with a duff dynamo. That's much more in line with the sheer quality of the R50.
Bruce Pearson