The fleet-in-a-bike machine
It got off to a slow start but the R1200GS turned out to be an all-round winner
JUST LIKE AN authentic Kansas Citystyle barbecue pit, BMW’S R1200GS is a slow-burner. My first few rides in early May left eyebrows only moderately raised. The flat twin proved more eager than I’d expected, the steering was surprisingly quick and the brakes immediately impressive. It was good, but nothing struck me as £15k-plus good.
As spring turned to summer my daily commute blossomed into more varied, exciting and demanding use. I got lost in Hertfordshire and ended up exploring a network of inviting byways. My bikesceptic girlfriend asked to go on the back — then so did her dad (p39). I took advantage of a last-minute place on a Mallory Park trackday. And I headed to the BMW Motorrad Days festival in Germany for the first time, bonding with the GS on a 1700-mile, four-day trip.
It wasn’t obvious from day-to-day, but hindsight reveals how eagerly and effortlessly the GS devoured every single challenge put in front of it. It just kept saying “Yes”, which let me do the same. With a sports-tourer I wouldn’t have explored those leafy trails. With a superbike those pillions would have got no further than rolling their eyes. With less performance or more bulk I would have declined the trackday. With a naked I’d have taken a plane to Germany. Individually each of these might seem no
“Living with the GS was like having a fleet of machines”
big deal, but doing them all — and doing them all so well, with such unflappable confidence and in such luxurious comfort — is truly exceptional. Living with the GS was like having access to a fleet of machines. Whatever opportunity came up, I always had the right bike.
Between the fun stuff, the GS proved delightfully low-maintenance. Shaftdrive gave me hours of my weekends back. A 50mpg average and trustworthy tankrange countdown let me spend minimal time in petrol stations. And 6000-mile service intervals kept it out of the workshop. Well, apart from the whole, “Could we have the bike back please, it’s just the fork legs might fall off…” thing. The high-profile recall was a black mark. Though my bike didn’t develop a gap between its stanchion tubes and top plugs, the weeks of doubt and concern (exacerbated by mixed messages from BMW) can’t be ignored. Otherwise I’d only found a few small niggles that disappointed: the lack of rear bungee points for soft luggage; no underseat storage; the Casio-watch clocks; the suspension’s bounciness in Road mode; the slightly undersized mirrors.
But even these were largely offset by the positive details. The keyless filler cap made sense of keyless ignition. Expandable hard luggage was quick to fit or remove and never leaked. The LED headlight was one of the brightest and best I’ve ever used. The original Metzeler Tourance Next tyres were faultless.
After six months I was sold. Literally: I had hoped to trade in my own F800GS and buy this 1200 rather than hand it back. But the choice was taken away one night when a couple of scootermounted scumbags whisked it away from outside a Swansea hotel. It might not have been mine, but I still felt violated. An undeserving end for an incredible machine.