This year, my wish list is very short.
Once, while watching a VRRA race, I saw a guy pat his bike just after he crossed the finish line. It was a real nail-biter and he managed to squeak out the win in the last few meters of the race. I noticed the gesture—a double pat on the side of the fuel tank—because I sometimes do this to my bike, but privately, usually as we either head out on or return from a long adventure. It’s a gesture of kinship, or thanks. I guess I feel silly doing it, but at least now I know I’m not alone.
The pat is silly because, of course, machines don’t have feelings. Perhaps the gesture is only an acknowledgment of our own. If you work on your bike, and especially if it takes you on some adventures, you develop a bond, dare I say an intimacy, with the bike. You trust it with your life and return the favour of that loyalty by keeping it well maintained. And sometimes, I will publicly admit, I even talk to my bike, promising from inside my helmet some much needed maintenance as we cover the last few kilometres of a long tour. No wonder my wife sometimes feels second-best.
I mention all this because, yesterday, while browsing Facebook marketplace listings, I came across my old, first bike, the original Beemer after which this blog is named, the one that took me across Canada and up to the Arctic Circle and Marilyn and me over The Rockies. I put 100,000 kilometres on that bike and did all the maintenance myself, and now here it was, sitting in a stranger’s driveway.
I always wondered what had happened to it. Last I heard, the woman I sold it to didn’t keep it for long but sold it, I was told, to trade up to a bigger GS. Her loss, I thought, since she was a learner and it’s a perfect learner bike and more. Now that new owner is selling it, and for a moment I actually considered buying it back. But I’ve got other plans.
Next spring I’ll be buying a new bike, or new to me. I’m looking at the Honda CRF 300 Rally.
I’ve always wanted a little trail bike. As good as the 650 was as a starter bike, there really is some truth to the adage that you should start small. It’s a lot easier to develop off-road skills on a little dirt bike than on a big adventure bike, a point on which Clinton Smout has founded his SMART riding school and which Adam Reimann argues in a recent video.
I will also throw some rackless saddlebags on it and use it as a light adventure tourer. I’ve already bought the Enduristan Monsoon 3’s in a Black Friday sale at Dual Sport Plus; now I just need the bike.
I know what’s coming, so let’s just get this out of the way early. Why doesn’t everyone who is reading this leave the comment, “That’s the same bike Itchy Boots used,” and I will henceforth become inert to the remark. But seriously, I’d rather you weigh in on another decision I’m making.
I’ve also decided to sell the Tiger and get an even better long distance touring bike, and yes, it will be a big GS because that’s the law. If you’re over 60 and into adventure street touring, you must get a big boxer. I’ve never owned a big GS but I rode one in a demo ride at La Classique a few years ago and was immediately hooked. If you don’t understand, you clearly haven’t ridden one.
But joking aside, hear me out. I’ve been trying to do it all—trail riding and touring—with a middle-weight bike, but that inevitably involves compromise both in the dirt and on the street. With retirement approaching fast, I think I’m ready for two bikes. The Tiger is a really fun bike, but it’s still a big bike for technical riding and a little small for long-distance touring. The GS carries its weight so low you can turn it on a dime, and where the 800 triple is straining a bit 2-up at 120 km/hr (70 mph), the 1200 GS is cruising in its element. There’s good reason that the GS is the best-selling adventure bike of all time.
I’ve considered getting a dedicated touring bike like a Gold Wing but wouldn’t want to go up The Dempster on one of those. I’ve also considered a sport touring bike like the discontinued Yamaha FJR but want the option of top-loading panniers for my camping gear. No, I knew a 1200GS was somewhere in my future; I just didn’t realize it would be this soon.
Why a 1200 and not a 1250 or even 1300? Mostly due to budget, but there are benefits to going with an older bike too. I like to work on my own bikes, so the simpler the better, without a lot of electronics, and there are literally thousands of old 1200 GS’s out there, so lots of choice. Ah, there’s the rub: I have choice paralysis.
What is the best era of the 1200? The simple, reliable, and relatively lightweight 04-12 1st Gen oil/air-cooled models; 2nd Gen 13-16 water-cooled models with more power and a wet clutch, electronic suspension, quickshifter, and rider modes with cruise control; or 3rd Gen 17-18 models with TFT display, dynamic (i.e. self-levelling) electronic suspension, cornering ABS, and finally a smooth transmission? There are incremental updates in each generation too so the decision gets complicated fast. Please let me know if you have a preferred year and why. I’ve got all winter and probably most of next season to decide, but I’m researching and narrowing down my decision now. I think I’ll probably go GS Adventure for the extra range and better wind protection if I can get my old Touratech panniers to go on it. (Do all GSA’s have the bent luggage rack on the muffler side?)
As for the Tiger, it’s been a really fun, sporty, adventure bike, and I will be sad to see it go, as I was when I sold the Beemer. We’ve had some good adventures together, and I’ll give it a few pats and parting words before the new owner rides it away. The only consolation for such loss is the promise of new adventures on new bikes. As Galway Kinnell writes of separation, “the need / for the new love is faithfulness to the old” (“Wait” 14-15).
650thumper 