New R1200R Impressions: 800 miles from Oregon to California
Posted: Thu Aug 23, 2007 7:08 pm
So Mike the Seller from Craig's List picks me up just outside baggage claim in Portland Airport just as planned on a Friday at 12:40 pm.
We get stuck in Interstate traffic. I commented that we needed a bike to split lanes and he said that lane sharing is illegal in Oregon. Sheesh, and I was considering moving there! Bunch of Luddites up there!
We're yakking away when I notice a sign that says welcome to Dallas, Oregon. Uh... Mike... weren't we supposed to stop in Salem to get the title at your Credit Union? Damn! and back ten miles to Salem.
Then I get to meet his lovely wife Allison and see their great house on some acreage outside Dallas, but, alas, since I'm trying to get to Eugene to get a windscreen installed before the dealer's closing time, I have no time to chat. Great people that I'd like to get to know better. Allison is an engineer and is working on photovoltaics and is very familiar with the program that put all the PV panels we saw on the farmer's barns in Germany. Maybe there is hope.
I meet the R1200R with 1100 miles on the clock and a slightly scratched valve cover. At least I don't have to worry about the first ding, and Mike generously supplied a new valve cover which I'll install at the first valve adjustment. I can see I have my work cut out for me: the road from Mike's place is gravel and here I am, 4 pm,, tired from the air travel, on an almost shiny-new motorcycle that is powerful and strange to me. Nonetheless, I made it the couple of miles to the blacktop and hauled butt along great country roads (thanks Mike for the route) to my Alp's riding buddy, Ducati Mike's house in Corvallis to meet his beautiful and gracious wife, Brandy. There are, in this world, few smiles more welcoming. We quickly determine that I'm never gonna make Eugene by closing time and might as well have a beer.
Way more than a beer, Mike pours his favorite brew: Young's Double Chocolate Stout in the nitro can. Wowzer, so good I had to have two just to make sure I in fact liked it. I do. Never knew there was a dessert brew. Never knew I would actually end up liking such a thing. I do.
http://coastr.com/beer/show/241
Then Brandy gently and efficiently gets us back in from the motorcycles to think about eating dinner. Another treat: Tender, seasoned, grilled tri tip from the University of Oregon School of Agriculture. Best steak I've ever had, which Mike grills with lots of advice from me. It still turned out perfect. Then a lovely walk around Corvallis, some ice cream at a local shop and, "Well, since you're off schedule, you might as well stay the night." So a spare bedroom with great new friends takes the place of a faceless motel room. I'm off to a good start. A really good start.
Eager to mount my new Garmin Zumo, I quickly realize that the piece of connector hardware that joins the GPS unit to the handlebar mount is sitting on my desk in California. No problem, because Mike comes up with the idea of using blue painter's masking tape with a little duct tape thrown in to tape the unit to the top of the tank with some bubble wrap underneath to protect the paint. Brilliant. And it works. He even gives me a roll of the masking tape, just in case. I'm beginning to think he really is capable of restoring the rusting Lotus 7 sports car that's in pieces in his garage.
Up Sunday morning and Brandy has coffee going and offers a bunch of choices for breakfast. I feel so taken care of by these folks! Maybe I WILL move to Oregon, after all. And lobby about lane sharing.
On the road on a beautiful Saturday morning 59 degrees, makes me wish I had my windscreen installed. But all is well and the Zumo is guiding me to the BMW dealer in Eugene. Gorgeous farm land and very little traffic on the back roads. Lots of "Jesus Saves" signs on the road. I didn't know Oregon had a vigorous Bible Belt. Once again, I'm reminded of how little we learn in our automotive cages blasting along the Interstates.
I'm starting to feel more at home on the bike. She's purring. The top two gears are overdrive, but if I shift into 4th and twist the throttle, she flies. In passing a truck on the 2-lane highway, I actually felt the rev-limiter kick in at 8000 rpm. Nice subtle clue to shift!
Pull into the BMW dealer's about 9:30 am to find a spacious, clean, new-looking shop staffed with polite and knowledgeable people. The shop had to squeeze me in, since they were expecting me on Friday evening, so I had to wait until other jobs were finished. It's really dangerous to wait in a well-stocked and exceedingly pleasant motorcycle shop. I bought one of those BMW phase-change shirts that Fritz swore by in the Alps. And a portable electric air pump. And suspenders (thanks for that idea, Bob), And yet another tire gauge.
As I'm getting ready to leave after noon, I can't get the rear trunk to close properly. Same thing had happened in Mike's driveway, but it eventually worked. But now, no go. I looked at the four slots that latch onto the lid and two of the mechanisms look different than the other two. The parts guy realizes they have jumped their tracks and says that nobody but the BMW factory works on these cases because they are impossible to assemble without special jigs. I get one of them back in with a screwdriver and he works on the other one for about 30 minutes. He then comes outside with a new case saying that he realized that even if he repaired it, he didn't know why it failed in the first place and it would likely recur, so he's giving me a new case under warranty. Class act.
So I finally leave Eugene at 1 pm with my new shield and a lighter wallet. At first I was relieved at not having the wind punch me in the chest all the time, but then I experienced something that would become supremely irritating for the next 800 miles: at speeds above 40 mph, the airflow over the screen set up a severe buffeting that came close to driving me completely nuts. [Short journey].
If I raise up on the pegs a couple of inches, my helmet is in clean air and I'm thinking Allison had the low seat and that maybe a higher seat would be an easy fix.
Nice motoring to Grants Pass to find a motel for the night. It hits 80 degrees and my mesh riding jacket works well. Good halibut dinner at a local diner with friendly down-home staff. Oregon could work.
Up the next morning and look out of the curtains to a completely gray sky and wet pavement. There was NO RAIN in the forecast... do those guys look outside their towers? After a quick breakfast, I make a run to the parking lot to bring the bike under the portico to load her up, getting fairly soaked in a sudden downpour. (Note to self: bring rain gear INSIDE at night, not leave it on the bike in the rain.) But after that, it just drizzled the rest of the morning. A fellow traveler reported that he saw a radar map that showed no rain south of Eureka and I'm thinking: just get to Eureka. Amazingly, the blue masking tape holding the Zumo power wire in place on the tank as it snakes back to the accessory power port, stays in place despite rain and highway speeds. Thanks Mike!
I have the GPS set to "Avoid Highways" so I can take the more scenic routes. My plan is to take Hwy 199 to Crescent City and pick up Hwy 101 south through the redwoods. The GPS plots a meandering route, avoiding getting on 199 in Grants Pass, and will get me back on it further west. Nice way to start the day, on farm roads in the mist. Beautiful ride along the Rogue River with, first, valleys of corn fields, and then rolling hills with oaks, reminiscent of Sonoma County, CA. There's almost no one on the roads on a softly raining early Sunday morning.
First clue that something might be amiss: I'm on a road called "Limpy Creek Road". OK, maybe it's not an omen... maybe it's just colorful. The road begins to climb, the temperature is dropping to 55 deg. and the fog is thickening and the drizzle is heavy enough that I have to wipe my shield every few seconds with that ingenuous Held glove wiper on the left finger. Then a sign announces "End of County Maintained Road." That's OK, because it's still paved, just a little more bumpy and narrow, much like the roads we road in Germany. How charming, as they say in the real estate business. The road is climbing in earnest now and I can sense there are beautiful mountain views somewhere out there in the fog.
Uh oh... the pavement ends and becomes gravel. But it's well maintained and, besides, both Mikes told me they've ridden lots of gravel roads in Oregon. OK, so this is the "adventure" part of my trip. As the inclines become steeper and the turns tighter, I really appreciate the bike's design and the boxer engine's strengths. The low center of gravity and the supply of torque at low-rpm's, and the nimble steering, mean I can motor long in 2nd gear, between 10 and 20 mph and easily negotiate the gravel road in the rain. This isn't a motorcycle, after all; it's a mountain goat. Sure footed and even quiet. I'm actually having a good time. Thanks, so much Fritz, for your glowing testimony to the boxer's strengths.
Next clue that something may be amiss: the GPS has to recalculate several times. No worries, I say, it's probably due to all the rain and fog. And, after all, it's still finds a road. Then, all of a sudden it tells me to turn where there is no other road. This means that the road it's tracking is not the road I'm riding. Then the symbol on the GPS showing were I am is no longer on a route, but the red route maker IS visible on the screen just a short distance to the northwest. I just have get over to where that route is. I'll be fine.
Then there are other clues, coming increasingly more often: rocks in the road that had fallen off the mountain sides and hadn't been cleaned up. Then the shrubbery branches started intruding in the roadway to the point I had to dodge them with my head. Then I noticed pine needles covering the gravel in a thick carpet, undisturbed by car tires. Hmmm... not looking good. Then another 20 minutes of slow going and the road ended in the middle of the forest, 20 miles and 1 hour away from my starting point. Going all the way back down, all the way back to Hwy 199 in Grants Pass, and 2 hours wasted at the beginning of a long driving day. Buy hey, it was an ADVENTURE!
Forget scenic routes. Find the highway and get this trip going. Made it to Crescent City through gorgeous countryside in the drizzle. Man, can this machine pass cars when it needs too! I was very hungry from all the morning's activities and, at Crescent City, stopped in a great Mexican food place for a hearty meal, beginning with a cup of homemade clam chowder to warm me me. I only packed the top to my rain suit, to save space and my legs got a bit cool. Note to self: always bring full rain gear! It's Oregon, after all.
I pushed off down 101 and pushed the bike hard when I could, hitting 85 and 90 mph on the straight portions when traffic was light. Lots of time there were RV's and the going was slow. Made it home by 10:30 pm and even with the high-speeds, wide-open throttle passing, and 2nd gear goat stepping, I averaged 44 mpg. Even though I went as fast as I could, I never felt I was hurrying. When I grew weary (mostly of the buffeting), I'd stop, usually once every hour or two. Pulled off the road to see a peaceful waterfall and had a great chat with a couple of guys touring on bikes. This is a nice world.
I LOVE this bike. It probably doesn't do any one thing as well as a bike designed for, say, touring, or the dirt, or the twisties, but it does them all competently and inspires loads of confidence. I'm even growing to like the boxer engine's 2-cylinder "character" as compared to the silky smooth quiet broad power band of the ST1100's V4. That bike glided along; this one motors it way through.
Follow-up note: I've applied a Laminar Lip device to the front of the Z-Technik windscreen and buffeting has been reduced 90%. I hope when I get a custom seat made and it's higher than Allison's low seat, I'll be out of the buffeting zone even further and won't miss my nice tall windscreen on the ST1100. I guess if I wanted no air, I'd drive a car.
For me the real test of the R1200R was its application to the purpose for which it was bought: doing my job on the streets of San Francisco. Wow! It is so maneuverable and tracks so well in tight corners, that it's a delight. It feels just as light and even more easy in the turns than the F800 I used in the Alps. It's actually not that much heavier than the 800 and not that much more expensive, so after all consideration, it was no contest.
In short, all is well. Best bike I can ever imagine owning, though Mike's Ducati ST sure looked interesting!
Be safe. Be joyful.
Bill
We get stuck in Interstate traffic. I commented that we needed a bike to split lanes and he said that lane sharing is illegal in Oregon. Sheesh, and I was considering moving there! Bunch of Luddites up there!
We're yakking away when I notice a sign that says welcome to Dallas, Oregon. Uh... Mike... weren't we supposed to stop in Salem to get the title at your Credit Union? Damn! and back ten miles to Salem.
Then I get to meet his lovely wife Allison and see their great house on some acreage outside Dallas, but, alas, since I'm trying to get to Eugene to get a windscreen installed before the dealer's closing time, I have no time to chat. Great people that I'd like to get to know better. Allison is an engineer and is working on photovoltaics and is very familiar with the program that put all the PV panels we saw on the farmer's barns in Germany. Maybe there is hope.
I meet the R1200R with 1100 miles on the clock and a slightly scratched valve cover. At least I don't have to worry about the first ding, and Mike generously supplied a new valve cover which I'll install at the first valve adjustment. I can see I have my work cut out for me: the road from Mike's place is gravel and here I am, 4 pm,, tired from the air travel, on an almost shiny-new motorcycle that is powerful and strange to me. Nonetheless, I made it the couple of miles to the blacktop and hauled butt along great country roads (thanks Mike for the route) to my Alp's riding buddy, Ducati Mike's house in Corvallis to meet his beautiful and gracious wife, Brandy. There are, in this world, few smiles more welcoming. We quickly determine that I'm never gonna make Eugene by closing time and might as well have a beer.
Way more than a beer, Mike pours his favorite brew: Young's Double Chocolate Stout in the nitro can. Wowzer, so good I had to have two just to make sure I in fact liked it. I do. Never knew there was a dessert brew. Never knew I would actually end up liking such a thing. I do.
http://coastr.com/beer/show/241
Then Brandy gently and efficiently gets us back in from the motorcycles to think about eating dinner. Another treat: Tender, seasoned, grilled tri tip from the University of Oregon School of Agriculture. Best steak I've ever had, which Mike grills with lots of advice from me. It still turned out perfect. Then a lovely walk around Corvallis, some ice cream at a local shop and, "Well, since you're off schedule, you might as well stay the night." So a spare bedroom with great new friends takes the place of a faceless motel room. I'm off to a good start. A really good start.
Eager to mount my new Garmin Zumo, I quickly realize that the piece of connector hardware that joins the GPS unit to the handlebar mount is sitting on my desk in California. No problem, because Mike comes up with the idea of using blue painter's masking tape with a little duct tape thrown in to tape the unit to the top of the tank with some bubble wrap underneath to protect the paint. Brilliant. And it works. He even gives me a roll of the masking tape, just in case. I'm beginning to think he really is capable of restoring the rusting Lotus 7 sports car that's in pieces in his garage.
Up Sunday morning and Brandy has coffee going and offers a bunch of choices for breakfast. I feel so taken care of by these folks! Maybe I WILL move to Oregon, after all. And lobby about lane sharing.
On the road on a beautiful Saturday morning 59 degrees, makes me wish I had my windscreen installed. But all is well and the Zumo is guiding me to the BMW dealer in Eugene. Gorgeous farm land and very little traffic on the back roads. Lots of "Jesus Saves" signs on the road. I didn't know Oregon had a vigorous Bible Belt. Once again, I'm reminded of how little we learn in our automotive cages blasting along the Interstates.
I'm starting to feel more at home on the bike. She's purring. The top two gears are overdrive, but if I shift into 4th and twist the throttle, she flies. In passing a truck on the 2-lane highway, I actually felt the rev-limiter kick in at 8000 rpm. Nice subtle clue to shift!
Pull into the BMW dealer's about 9:30 am to find a spacious, clean, new-looking shop staffed with polite and knowledgeable people. The shop had to squeeze me in, since they were expecting me on Friday evening, so I had to wait until other jobs were finished. It's really dangerous to wait in a well-stocked and exceedingly pleasant motorcycle shop. I bought one of those BMW phase-change shirts that Fritz swore by in the Alps. And a portable electric air pump. And suspenders (thanks for that idea, Bob), And yet another tire gauge.
As I'm getting ready to leave after noon, I can't get the rear trunk to close properly. Same thing had happened in Mike's driveway, but it eventually worked. But now, no go. I looked at the four slots that latch onto the lid and two of the mechanisms look different than the other two. The parts guy realizes they have jumped their tracks and says that nobody but the BMW factory works on these cases because they are impossible to assemble without special jigs. I get one of them back in with a screwdriver and he works on the other one for about 30 minutes. He then comes outside with a new case saying that he realized that even if he repaired it, he didn't know why it failed in the first place and it would likely recur, so he's giving me a new case under warranty. Class act.
So I finally leave Eugene at 1 pm with my new shield and a lighter wallet. At first I was relieved at not having the wind punch me in the chest all the time, but then I experienced something that would become supremely irritating for the next 800 miles: at speeds above 40 mph, the airflow over the screen set up a severe buffeting that came close to driving me completely nuts. [Short journey].
If I raise up on the pegs a couple of inches, my helmet is in clean air and I'm thinking Allison had the low seat and that maybe a higher seat would be an easy fix.
Nice motoring to Grants Pass to find a motel for the night. It hits 80 degrees and my mesh riding jacket works well. Good halibut dinner at a local diner with friendly down-home staff. Oregon could work.
Up the next morning and look out of the curtains to a completely gray sky and wet pavement. There was NO RAIN in the forecast... do those guys look outside their towers? After a quick breakfast, I make a run to the parking lot to bring the bike under the portico to load her up, getting fairly soaked in a sudden downpour. (Note to self: bring rain gear INSIDE at night, not leave it on the bike in the rain.) But after that, it just drizzled the rest of the morning. A fellow traveler reported that he saw a radar map that showed no rain south of Eureka and I'm thinking: just get to Eureka. Amazingly, the blue masking tape holding the Zumo power wire in place on the tank as it snakes back to the accessory power port, stays in place despite rain and highway speeds. Thanks Mike!
I have the GPS set to "Avoid Highways" so I can take the more scenic routes. My plan is to take Hwy 199 to Crescent City and pick up Hwy 101 south through the redwoods. The GPS plots a meandering route, avoiding getting on 199 in Grants Pass, and will get me back on it further west. Nice way to start the day, on farm roads in the mist. Beautiful ride along the Rogue River with, first, valleys of corn fields, and then rolling hills with oaks, reminiscent of Sonoma County, CA. There's almost no one on the roads on a softly raining early Sunday morning.
First clue that something might be amiss: I'm on a road called "Limpy Creek Road". OK, maybe it's not an omen... maybe it's just colorful. The road begins to climb, the temperature is dropping to 55 deg. and the fog is thickening and the drizzle is heavy enough that I have to wipe my shield every few seconds with that ingenuous Held glove wiper on the left finger. Then a sign announces "End of County Maintained Road." That's OK, because it's still paved, just a little more bumpy and narrow, much like the roads we road in Germany. How charming, as they say in the real estate business. The road is climbing in earnest now and I can sense there are beautiful mountain views somewhere out there in the fog.
Uh oh... the pavement ends and becomes gravel. But it's well maintained and, besides, both Mikes told me they've ridden lots of gravel roads in Oregon. OK, so this is the "adventure" part of my trip. As the inclines become steeper and the turns tighter, I really appreciate the bike's design and the boxer engine's strengths. The low center of gravity and the supply of torque at low-rpm's, and the nimble steering, mean I can motor long in 2nd gear, between 10 and 20 mph and easily negotiate the gravel road in the rain. This isn't a motorcycle, after all; it's a mountain goat. Sure footed and even quiet. I'm actually having a good time. Thanks, so much Fritz, for your glowing testimony to the boxer's strengths.
Next clue that something may be amiss: the GPS has to recalculate several times. No worries, I say, it's probably due to all the rain and fog. And, after all, it's still finds a road. Then, all of a sudden it tells me to turn where there is no other road. This means that the road it's tracking is not the road I'm riding. Then the symbol on the GPS showing were I am is no longer on a route, but the red route maker IS visible on the screen just a short distance to the northwest. I just have get over to where that route is. I'll be fine.
Then there are other clues, coming increasingly more often: rocks in the road that had fallen off the mountain sides and hadn't been cleaned up. Then the shrubbery branches started intruding in the roadway to the point I had to dodge them with my head. Then I noticed pine needles covering the gravel in a thick carpet, undisturbed by car tires. Hmmm... not looking good. Then another 20 minutes of slow going and the road ended in the middle of the forest, 20 miles and 1 hour away from my starting point. Going all the way back down, all the way back to Hwy 199 in Grants Pass, and 2 hours wasted at the beginning of a long driving day. Buy hey, it was an ADVENTURE!
Forget scenic routes. Find the highway and get this trip going. Made it to Crescent City through gorgeous countryside in the drizzle. Man, can this machine pass cars when it needs too! I was very hungry from all the morning's activities and, at Crescent City, stopped in a great Mexican food place for a hearty meal, beginning with a cup of homemade clam chowder to warm me me. I only packed the top to my rain suit, to save space and my legs got a bit cool. Note to self: always bring full rain gear! It's Oregon, after all.
I pushed off down 101 and pushed the bike hard when I could, hitting 85 and 90 mph on the straight portions when traffic was light. Lots of time there were RV's and the going was slow. Made it home by 10:30 pm and even with the high-speeds, wide-open throttle passing, and 2nd gear goat stepping, I averaged 44 mpg. Even though I went as fast as I could, I never felt I was hurrying. When I grew weary (mostly of the buffeting), I'd stop, usually once every hour or two. Pulled off the road to see a peaceful waterfall and had a great chat with a couple of guys touring on bikes. This is a nice world.
I LOVE this bike. It probably doesn't do any one thing as well as a bike designed for, say, touring, or the dirt, or the twisties, but it does them all competently and inspires loads of confidence. I'm even growing to like the boxer engine's 2-cylinder "character" as compared to the silky smooth quiet broad power band of the ST1100's V4. That bike glided along; this one motors it way through.
Follow-up note: I've applied a Laminar Lip device to the front of the Z-Technik windscreen and buffeting has been reduced 90%. I hope when I get a custom seat made and it's higher than Allison's low seat, I'll be out of the buffeting zone even further and won't miss my nice tall windscreen on the ST1100. I guess if I wanted no air, I'd drive a car.
For me the real test of the R1200R was its application to the purpose for which it was bought: doing my job on the streets of San Francisco. Wow! It is so maneuverable and tracks so well in tight corners, that it's a delight. It feels just as light and even more easy in the turns than the F800 I used in the Alps. It's actually not that much heavier than the 800 and not that much more expensive, so after all consideration, it was no contest.
In short, all is well. Best bike I can ever imagine owning, though Mike's Ducati ST sure looked interesting!
Be safe. Be joyful.
Bill
], I realize that I am not worthy. Great report. I was right there with you enjoying new friends and super roads.