Impressions: my 41 liter tank

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Impressions: my 41 liter tank

My tank – my freedom

This tank. That damn tank. In his mind, UNTRWEGS editor Michael Schroder dumped 41 liters and accelerated. Anyone who owns such a barrel is always on the way. Always goes where there is nothing to refuel. That sounds like the Sahara, like Tierra del Fuego, like adventure. That sounds like freedom as he means it. It’s good that freedom can be bought.

The thing in front of me wasn’t a normal BMW R 1100 GS anymore. Lush forms under a blue robe – I admired a bird of paradise that goes by the name Desierto. Reason capitulated to the power of the senses. That or none. What remains are questions. How much motorcycle do people need? Or does a Transalp also work? And how often can you get rolls when a tank of fuel costs 80 marks?
What I didn’t know: the price for a Desierto is high. Very high. And I’m not talking about money. Not that you could safely travel around the world for six months with the proceeds from all the accessories that turn a GS into a Desierto, if the boss just let you. Not that I want to complain at this point. Regular coal in the account is fine. But these dreams in your head make life difficult. Or those memories. A lot of blue as a student and twice to South America on an R 80 GS that was already old at the time. 35,000 kilometers without an aluminum case, without GPS, without Zip and Zap and constantly broke. But happy. And today? Today I go to my garage after work and look at my Desierto. Also something like luck. And in my mind the feeling comforts that I can do it if I want. At least at some point.
Back to the topic. The thing about the price you have to pay when you drive Desierto. Not in the desert, because my GS has not yet seen sand. But in rush hour traffic. One stands out. Because the wide boxer is often just as stuck as the truck in front of it. In the cars to the right and left, conversations fall silent, windows are rolled down, questions are asked. Always the same litany. How many liters (meaning the tank)? How expensive (see above)? How do you become a BMW works driver (that’s a great honor every time)? And I can understand. If I were sitting in the car and turning out the two lights of the Desierto in the rearview mirror, I would throw myself in front of her wheels.
Things really get down to business on the boulevard. Folks, forget about MV Agusta and Ducati 996. Mass-produced. Off-the-shelf motorcycles. A Harley anyway. Now stands in front of every youth center. If you really want to know, park the Desierto and sit down in the cafe opposite. Five minutes later the air burns. Seriously. I’ve experienced it and don’t tell you any shit. The scramble in the winter sales is a walk in contrast.
But he needs it. Please speak out what you think. Anyway, they are always the smallest who drive the thickest things. Because of the women and against the complexes and so on. What did I have to listen to. Especially from good friends. And from colleagues. Every morning in front of the editorial office. Schroder, do you have a ladder with you? Schroder, have you already filled up this year? Schroder, do you also have a reverse gear? I’m not hearing it now. Because I would drive my Desierto even if I were six feet tall. And finally believe me: The part is not a bee catcher anyway. The guy on the Vespa gets the applause from the women. It has always been like this. Except in our dreams. Only there do we live in paradise, where the girls really love a foxtail, 150 hp and wide tires. Or, in the case of Desierto, jump up to feel over the tank to see that an Ohlins shock absorber also cushions at the front, and finally to be amazed at the yellow hard parts that reinforce the handlebar stop and the rear mount. And then of course invite the driver to dinner. Man people, wake up. The reality is different. What is crowding around my Desierto, fiddling with the IMO on-board computer and crawling under the oil pan protection usually wears a beard and a BMW system helmet. Or suit. But never mini.
If so, why bother? Or would the bottom line also be a Transalp? It’s cheaper and definitely won’t be stolen. Two not unimportant arguments. And I was once in the Alps with one of them. It is really good around the corner and could actually do a lot better than most of the mopeds I have been on before. But driving is only one thing. Look at a moped and let yourself be inspired, the other. And now let’s face it: Who has ever seen someone clap their hands at the sight of a Transalp? So what. Bread and butter fill you up, and in the long run only taste a little bland.
Desierto driving is like a five-star menu. And wants to be celebrated. You don’t just get in the saddle. And you don’t just drive off either. No. That’s not how it works. Because your head needs time to grasp the sheer size of the bike. And to see enough of shape and color. Every time. If you are looking directly from the front, you are standing in front of a wall by a motorcycle. First the cylinders. 1100 cubic, which deflect to the right and left. Nothing new, just BMW. But above that the tank. Deep, round and wide. When it comes down to it, there are ranges that otherwise only diesel drivers report. Then the disguise. Copied from the rally KTM. Two suggested air scoops, two small lamps that blink defiantly like cheeky eyes, and a tall, tinted pane. Shapes and proportions that ensure weak knees. I’m not interested in the fact that a barn door probably has a better CW value.
After the porters and the aluminum case have moved into the basement, I also like the view from behind. A narrow stern and the mighty flanks of the tank define the line. I could drag myself into it for hours. Or the perspective from the front and bottom right when the cart is on the side stand. Just don’t get caught too often. Who knows what friends or neighbors think when you’re constantly lying on your stomach in the grass in front of the garage.
But finally you take a seat. The legs enclose this huge bubble, the fingers grip the wide handlebars, activate the IMO and call up an almost unmanageable amount of data with a mini button. Outside and engine temperature, the maximum speed reached so far, the journey time from the day before yesterday minus the break time, and and and … It can happen that the day goes by and you are still sitting on the planer in the garage and pressing buttons.
If there is still enough time, let’s get out. On the route, the Desierto finally becomes the top dog. Today every child knows that a GS runs well on country roads. This works better. Guaranteed. For example because of the Ohlins dampers. Rock hard, the two parts. Contact instead of comfort. Like a super sports car. I want to sit comfortably in front of the TV and in an S-Class, not when it comes to handing out red lanterns on my home route. And anyone who is still on the road without steel braided brake lines can get in line right at the back. Another tip is revealed here: Never take a Desierto with a full tank on the route! You could pour lead straight out of your motorcycle. But it doesn’t do so well when maneuvering. No, only ten liters in the barrel at the weekend, which, despite its size, is lighter than the original. This is my last trump card that nobody suspects.
Nowlish, however, I stopped to get bread. Dry like a martini. It’s even more embarrassing than losing a traffic light start. Without a net and a false bottom, freedom can also be a nuisance.

Technical data – BMW R 1100 GS Desierto

Engine: two-cylinder four-stroke, boxer, 1085 cm3, bore x stroke 99×70.5 mm, electronic intake manifold injection, 59 kW (80 hp) at 6800 rpm. Desierto extras: cladding with double headlights, 41 liter tank, mini indicators, side covers, rally fenders, Ohlins struts v./h., Reinforcement at the handlebar stop and rear mount (hard parts), ceramic clutch, steel braided brake line v. / h., crash bar, engine protection extension, lockable oil plug, IMO-100 R300 computer, IMO remote control, additional rear light (light-emitting diodes), carbon exhaust covers. Weight with a full tank: 281 kg: Information: Touratech, Telephone: 07728 / 9279-0; www.touratech.de.

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