‘I constantly forget how explosive that twistgrip is’
BMW’S 207bhp S1000RR is a monster sportsbike. But, it can also transmogrify into a polite touring companion. Who knew? Bike’s Ben Lindley after 1000 miles to Spain…
One thousand miles – York to Almeria, Spain – on a category ten nuclear-powered sportsbike should start like this: strap toothbrush and boxers to pillion cowl (that’s all that its), wear punishing 15kg backpack containing everything else and ill chest pocket (leathers) with treasured possessions, until it’s it to burst. Switch on the bike, lever right foot over the tall seat and fall backwards from the backpack weight. Wrestle with the racy throttle and stall twice due to cold engine. Nearly drop the bike, paddle off the drive on tiptoes, and inally stop at the irst junction to check the route on a map. Mercifully there’s no embarrassment whatsoever about one thousand miles on BMW’S current S1000RR: I zip up the spacious luggage and slide it onto the pillion seat. The tank bag takes my treasured possessions and clips on with two clicks. Satnav directions download to the dash, destination Portsmouth for the Santander ferry. Heated grips to full, electronic suspension to softest of soft, and we slide away with a refined clutch and throttle. If the next 1000 miles are as easy as this…
Admittedly all this isn’t what I’d been expecting when sketching my autumnal excursion to sunny southern Spain.
Like everyone else I’ve heard about how the S1000RR creams the world’s racetracks, what I want to know is how good will it be on a long trip? Yes, there are heated grips, cruise control and a handy tank range readout. But surely it can’t really tour. After all we’re still dealing with supersport tyres, clipons, 207bhp at the rear wheel, and the latest rear-wheel slide control. It’s like giving the latest SAW movie a U-rating. Talking of the S1000RR’S slide control, the plan is to read about the full suite of military-grade electronics on the ferry – 36 hours on the water should cover it. Yet a six-metre swell and force nine gales put paid to that idea, and anything else quite frankly. Eventually, and I do mean eventually, we arrive on Spain’s north coast, me still prodding buttons like a primary schooler. It’s overcast and sub-ten degrees, much like England. Bring on the nine-hour ride to the hot deserts of Almeria.
You’d expect 2019’s best superbike to be good at huge power and gorgeous handling. But the first thing I’m floored by is how well it deals with the cold, wet streets of Santander. It’s the soft fuelling under 4000rpm and the Jeeves-ish quickshifter (the next gear’s always there when you need it). They’re both so refined and clean that slow-speed town riding is ridiculously easy. If you stuck wide bars on it and never went above 4000rpm, you could use this 204bhp colossus exactly like a Honda NC750.
Then, WHAM, it’s neck muscle-snapping acceleration time. But first prepare the riding modes: full power is limited in Rain mode, and Road mode limits mid-range thrust in the first two gears. So flick the bike into Race mode to access all available juice. Line up on the slip road, check trac density, draw the twistgrip against the stop. By 6000rpm the front wheel levers off the ground and your body’s adrenal glands get busy squirting all there is to offer. Electronic intervention almost stabilises the raw power at 9000rpm – just in time for the Shift Cam tech to kick in. It takes just 4.4 milliseconds for the engine to click power into some otherworldly universe where light-speed is for wimps.
The only other gear you need when enjoying Spanish motorways is sixth – activate cruise control and try to get your heart rate back to sensible. Good job BMW made the pillion seat and ’pegs optional extras – I’d have lost my acquaintance somewhere back on the slip road. Here at a