The motorcycle is a BMW R65, produced in 1984. The original blue has been enhanced by a white RT fairing, and a pair of white Keith Gold panniers. After donning a white system helmet all I need is flashing blue lights and a siren. Even without these last two additional items, some motorists are convinced its a plod mobile and very courteously pull over.
Teenage years with a CB175 and CJ250T gave way to married life. After quite a few years I purchased a 250 Superdream which was duly sold and a CB500T obtained. The latter had to go as I'm no mechanic and it really needed one. A friend gave me his 250 Superdream which was used as a deposit for the boxer.
It was a little low on fuel so with a fiver donated by the garage, I set off for the nearest petrol station. Alas, I didn’t make it, and vowed I would never run out of petrol again, as pushing the boxer uphill required a little more physical effort than I was used to Not a good start. Petrol in the tank, me on the seat, the ride home was all it took for me to be smitten by this machine.
The first ride with my wife on the pillion, was a trip to Chester (from Worksop). It was one of those scorchers during the summer of 1990. The long queues going to Bakewell Show held us up a little but before too long we were on our way. It really was a very nice ride, but on the way home, my pillion was becoming a little sore.
One or two problems ensued but the garage in Sheffield was very good. I’m not at all technical but apparently it was the input shaft in the gearbox. A three month warranty ensured I didn't have to pay and I was soon on the road again. It was about this time that l was thinking of a bike holiday, the wife was not immediately convinced but time is a wonderful thing.
France was the place to go. and we booked ten days before Easter. A colleague at work allowed us the use of his home in Meymac. The ride down to Portsmouth went okay except for petrol dripping from the left-hand carb on to the exhaust. The quick removal of the float bowl followed by a swift flush through sorted it out. The wife became very cold and found it very difficult to warm up.
We arrived in Portsmouth early, had lunch and boarded the ferry with no problems. I wasn't convinced that the rope, casually slung over the bike and knotted would achieve anything. ”It'll be alright, mate.” from the deckhand was little comfort. I must say that for care taken of the bike, the ferry company score no points. Thankfully, the crossing was rather smooth.
We were in Le Harvre at about 10.30pm, found a reasonable hotel and relaxed. The ride to Meymac was long and took us into the dark hours the next day. The last 40km of road were very twisty, through woods. Damp leaf strewn roads were not welcome, particularly with rough surfaces thrown in. Periodically, a pair of headlights would almost attach themselves to the panniers. As quickly as they arrived, they would overtake and disappear into the night. This was when it became very cold and after ten hours in the seat we were both a little sore. One a little more than the other.
The bike had behaved itself well on the French roads, anything less than the comfort offered by the BMW would have been shear agony. The relaxing beat of the boxer engine seemed to urge us on to our destination. When we got there, no—one had any keys so the caretaker took us to the local hotel and collected us the next day. The house was out of town in a pine forest, a most pleasant setting. As the week passed the weather improved and day-time riding in; the sunshine was a real pleasure. The 40km of road leading to Meymac was especially entertaining as the tight, leaf-strewn bends had dried out, and rather more fun than our first ride over them.
Our rides included the Dordogne Valley, again in glorious sunshine. The twisty roads up and down the sides of the valley were great fun, the BMW’s handling well suited to this environment; the disc brakes an easy match for the speeds we were able to attain.
In the daytime the French roads seem to have little traffic, like Sunday over here but every day in France. This made riding the bike very easy except that several pistol packing Gendarmes were seen; on the spot fines make any kind of speeding very expensive over there.
All too soon it was time to return home We decided that we would use the N1 (motorway) and break the journey to Le Harve at Chartres. We picked up the N1 at Cleremont Ferand and took lunch at the earliest 'convenience.’ The next 60 miles took only 40 minutes. It was then we noticed oil around the left cylinder and my left leg. My non mechanical mind was a little worried at this point. Is that what’s called a head gasket that’s gone? We carried on, keeping an eye on the cylinder and oil level. At the next service area I purchased some very expensive oil and topped up This lasted until the next dealer service when the gasket was changed.
I must say that we were made very welcome in the hotels we stayed in. At the Hotel lbis in Chartres, the receptionist insisted I parked the bike in the foyer for safety. I was impressed! The town was barely awake when we left at 10am. We made good time and made it to the ferry terminal with time to spare. On motorways, up to 85mph the bike ran fine, even two up there was not a hint of a weave from the back end and vibes were minimal. After various rat Hondas the BMW was almost revelatory. The wife was becoming used to the pillion, again on a lesser machine she would have probably been in a foul mood by then.
Then came the ferry crossing. I loved watching the waves break over the bows, feeling the pitch and roll of the ferry. The journey on the way home was most exhilarating. It was very windy and wet. It was here I found overtaking the artics on the main roads a trifle daunting, especially if the land was flat and open, as the machine tended to be thrown around a bit. The answer was to wait for an embankment, which made an excellent wind break. When the rain started I was so pleased l had the big fairing up front.
We had covered 1784 miles in ten days. Not so far, perhaps, but for a first tour we felt it was quite enough. The system helmets were excellent, once bedded in. We had no intercoms but it’s a must for next time. My seat had two inches removed by the previous owner and I found the touring position most comfortable, although the wife was a little stiff and sore but I put that down to lack of miles covered and plenty more riding (and a backrest) will cure that.
The Metzeler tyres gave no problems at all and enabled the bike to be ridden with great confidence Rather a different experience from the Japanese Dunlops I had on the CB175. Indeed,l have yet to be worried by these tyres,
You will have realised by now that I am neither mechanically nor technically minded (in fact, I'm a catering manager). However. I do love riding my boxer and will find any excuse to press the starter and ride for any length of time (I always test ride after washing, polishing or simply moving the bike to get the car out of the garage).
Since purchasing the bike the majority of bikers I've met have been more than sociable. Owning a BMW is like joining a family, and there's nothing better than spending a couple of hours at the local dealers, drinking coffee and having a good chat. I know you've read these stories before and I’m sure many will follow, but as far as I'm concerned the Boxer is in a class of its own.
P Bacon