Alright, so you want to hear about my journey with that R100GS. It’s been a bit of a ride, let me tell you. Not just on the road, but getting the thing to where it is now.
The Beginning – Why an R100GS?
It all started, I guess, because I’ve always had a soft spot for these old airheads. There’s just something honest about them. I’d been idly browsing, not really looking, you know? Then this one popped up. Looked a bit sorry for itself, but the bones seemed good. The price was, well, it was a price that made you think, “Okay, what’s the catch?”
Turned out, the catch was mostly neglect. The previous owner, nice enough fella, just didn’t have the time or maybe the inclination anymore. It had been sitting for a good while. But the engine turned over, which was a good sign. I figured, how hard could it be?
Famous last words, right?
Getting it Home and The Initial Teardown
So, I hauled it back to my garage. First thing was just to stare at it for a bit. Let it sink in. Then, the proper work began. I started by giving it a good wash, trying to see what I was really dealing with under all that grime. Surprising how much better something looks after a bit of soap and water.
Then, the stripping down. I’m pretty methodical, or I try to be. Lots of plastic bags, labels, and taking pictures with my phone. You think you’ll remember where every bolt goes, but trust me, you won’t. Especially not on something of this age. I removed the tank, seat, side panels. Then the exhaust, which was a bit crusty. The carbs looked like they’d seen better days, all gummy and sad.
Here’s what I found in those early days:
- The wiring loom was… creative. Lots of old repairs, some good, some definitely not.
- Rubber parts were mostly perished. Hoses, gaiters, you name it.
- Surface rust on the frame, but nothing too scary.
The Engine and Carbs – The Heart of the Matter
I decided to tackle the engine and carbs first. If I couldn’t get that sorted, there wasn’t much point in making it pretty. So, I pulled the Bing carbs. Oh boy. They were gummed up solid. I spent hours, and I mean hours, carefully disassembling them, soaking parts in cleaner, using tiny brushes and picks. It’s like surgery, but smellier.
The engine itself, I did a compression test. Decent. Phew. I checked the valve clearances, adjusted them. Changed the oil, of course. The old stuff looked like tar. I cleaned up the spark plugs, gapped them. Went through the ignition system, cleaning contacts. The air filter was a museum piece; replaced that straight away.
It’s funny, you know, sometimes you get these projects because you need a distraction. My other big project at the time, a software thing for a client, was just dragging on and on. Constant changes, scope creep, the usual nonsense. Working on this bike, something physical, where you could see the progress, it was a kind of therapy. You turn a wrench, something gets tighter. You clean a part, it looks better. Simple.
Frame, Suspension, and Brakes
With the engine showing promise, I moved onto the chassis. I stripped the frame down further. Got rid of that surface rust, treated it, and gave it a fresh coat of paint. Nothing fancy, just good old black.
Suspension was next. The fork seals were leaking, so I rebuilt the forks with new seals and fresh oil. The rear shocks were tired, but I decided to live with them for a bit, see how it rides first. You can always upgrade later, right? Can’t do everything at once unless you’ve got a bottomless wallet, which I don’t.
Brakes. Super important. I bled the system, which was full of gunk. The pads had life, but I replaced them anyway for peace of mind. Cleaned up the discs. I checked all the lines, made sure nothing was cracked or bulging.
The Electrics – Taming the Beast
Ah, electrics. My “favorite” part on old bikes. Like I said, it was a bit of a mess. I spent a lot of time with a multimeter and wiring diagrams. I fixed so many dodgy connections, replaced brittle wires. Cleaned every single connector I could find. Sometimes it’s just corrosion, other times it’s outright bad repairs from years past. I upgraded the headlight to something a bit brighter because those old ones are like candles in the wind.
Putting It All Back Together
This is the fun part, when it starts looking like a motorbike again. I reassembled everything carefully. Trying not to scratch the new paint on the frame. Connecting all those wires I’d labeled. Bolting on the tank, fitting the seat. It’s slow, painstaking work. You’ll always find a bolt you missed, or a connector you forgot.
I installed new tires, of course. Old tires are just asking for trouble. Balanced the wheels. Checked every nut and bolt for tightness. Then, I filled it with fresh fuel.
The First Start and Beyond
The moment of truth. Fuel on, choke on, ignition on. Hit the starter. It coughed. Spluttered. Then, VROOOM! It actually ran! That boxer twin rumble, man, there’s nothing quite like it. I let it warm up, listening for any strange noises. Sounded pretty good. I synced the carbs again, now that it was running properly.
The first test ride was just around the block. Gingerly at first. Brakes worked. Gears changed. It felt… good. Solid. A bit agricultural, like these old BMWs do, but in a good way.
Since then, I’ve just been riding it, ironing out little kinks. A tweak here, an adjustment there. That’s the thing with old bikes, they’re never really “finished”. But that’s part of the charm, I suppose. It’s a machine I know inside and out now. Every rattle, every quirk. And yeah, it was worth all the scraped knuckles and late nights in the garage.
It’s not a show bike. It’s a rider. And that’s exactly what I wanted.