These shots show the windscreen attachment hardware used on a 1993 R100GS BMW. The plastic fittings that support the underside of the windscreen are angled and need to be installed in the correct orientation as shown. I haven’t seen this info posted elsewhere and thought it might save me some time next time I or anyone else had the windscreen off.
I’ve been experimenting with better wind protection on the GSs ever since I worked out a sound system for listening to music on the motorcycles. And as good as the Etymotic ER6i earphones are, they don’t completely block out the roar of the wind at freeway speeds. I’d had very good experience with a Wunderlich windscreen on the R1200GS, but knew that the off roading I had planned for the R100GS would probably break a screen that big, or it would cut my head off the first time I tried to climb a steep hill or get the front wheel over a good sized rock. Happy as I was with the Wunderlich, my bud Tony talked me into trying a Laminar Lip extension to the stock screen and I found almost as much protection and less rocking and buffeting of the bike. With its lower and narrower screen, the Laminar lip seemed like a natural first step for the R100GS.
Priced at a modest $75, the Lip is significantly more affordable than larger alternatives. Mine came packed in a ton of bubble wrap just a few days after I’d ordered it. The box contained the Lip, a set of extra mounting dots, and a set of alcohol pads to clean the old screen where the dots would touch down.
BMW’s hard luggage are just about the best factory cases available, but Jesse bags are almost legendary. These things are waterproof, rugged, and cleanly designed, and with the addition of the Odyessey line, they even fit the standard BMW luggage mounts. In fact, the Odyessey bags are available to fit /5, /6, /7, R100, and early K style mounts. They offer 100 liters of capacity where the BMW cases have only 57, and are only 10 liters shy of the standard Jesse bags. They’re 34″ across when mounted on the bike, while the BMW cases measure 33 1/2″.
Two latches hold each lid closed and two more hold the bag to the rack. The latter are adjustable to provide more or less tension, and utilize a camming handle to allow quick release. The fit is tight and rattle free. As the photo shows, the opening in the top is huge, much wider than the original Jesse design. Al Jesse says wire bales will soon be available to hold your stuff into the lids, allowing more efficient utilization of that odd shaped space.
I’d seen them coming two corners back, flying down the narrow twisting canyon, hanging over the centerline, knee pucks inches from the pavement. I moved right to give them room, thinking about Dick Rutter getting center punched up on Skyline years ago by another out of control “sport” rider. These two went by nose to tail, using all of their lane, and a bit of mine, too. Safely by I had just begun to relax a bit when I spotted more movement further up the road, on the other side of the next left hander. Another big displacement Japanese repli-racer, haulin’ ass, trying to catch up to his buddies. He comes into the corner, a right for him, leaning way over, steadily heading toward the center line, clearly having trouble staying on his side of the road. Going way to fast, he mashes the foot brake to slow down. The back end breaks loose, coming around the outside so I can see the side of the rear wheel. But just then the brake lets go, the rear snaps back around past straight and keeps going, and the bike high sides, flipping the rider off and throwing the bike down the road, right side down and saddle leading the charge across the center line. I’m all downshifts and brakes by then, but no matter how fast I try to move right the big Suzuki seems to track my front wheel. It’s seven feet long laying across the road, and there’s just no where to go. I look down just as we hit, my front wheel buried in the seat, the “GSXR” sticker on the side of the fairing just in front of the BMW’s right jug. I try to stiff arm it, but the impact is so hard the GS is pushed back out from under me, and I do a hand stand as I’m flipped over the bars. I see branches and blue sky, then land on my back, my legs and feet slamming crack-the-whip style into the hard pavement. I lay there a minute, taking stock. It feels like someone is jabbing a knife into my right foot, and my left hand hurts like hell. I guess the pads in the Aerostich Darien Light took the rest of the impact, since my elbows, spine, shoulders, and hips are unhurt.
I sit up and look over my shoulder to find the GS on its right side, facing back
the way I’d come from. The road is wet with oil and gas, but I have trouble standing up to reach the petcock. A car driver stops and gets out, and as I struggle to my feet I see the other rider over the downed GS, laying in the road, screaming bloody murder. The bones of his lower right leg are sticking through his jeans, and his foot rests at an impossible angle. The driver gets the GS up, and tries to use the center stand, but the front wheel is pushed back into the motor and the stand doesn’t make it to the ground on both sides anymore. I shut off the fuel and ignition, and the bike leans right but doesn’t go back down. That’ll have to be good enough for now. I thank him for his effort, and another car arrives, mentioning that he lives near by and will go home to call 911. My helper gets back into his car, saying he’ll call on his cell phone from lower in the canyon.
A few minutes go by while I try my own cell, which the narrow canyon walls and remote location prevent from getting a signal. The Suzuki rider’s buddies show up and ask what to do. I send one down the canyon to make another cell call, and put the other one back around the blind corner leading to the crash scene to stop cars. I look back to the rider, and notice a trickle of blood running out of his pants leg. I fish a bungee cord out of my tank bag, but can’t get over to him to apply a tourniquet. I call the other rider over and tell him what he’s got to do. It doesn’t look very tight to me, but the trickle seems to slow. He goes back to his corner and the crashed rider keeps crying out.
After almost forty-five minutes we finally hear sirens. Palomares Canyon isn’t that far from Sunol or Fremont, and I can’t understand the delay. It’s a fire department pumper truck with four firemen. Three go immediately to help with the broken leg, and one asks me if I’m OK. I tell him no, but tell him to take care of the other guy first. By then the CHP shows up, along with an ambulance, and in a few minutes it’s rolling out with the downed rider to what I’m told will be a helicopter ride to the nearest hospital. When my turn comes I explain my pains and they ask if I want to go to a hospital. Heck yes I want to go to a hospital! They order up another ambulance and the CHP officer hands me a card with an accident report number, and the phone for the towing agency that will take care of my bike.
I admit it: I’m a sucker for mechanical beauty. And I knew from the moment I stuck a pair of these babies on my R1200GS I’d be wanting another pair for the R100. So in a moment of weakness I started cruising the net and came up with cyclebuy.com who were offering ’em for $99. Only trouble was I wasn’t sure what model to order. An email off to Steve Lederer at Fastway Performance was turned around very quickly with the answer: 22-2-403. That turns out to be the same offering used in Honda XR Minis, and is also the same as I used for the R1200GS. The order was placed that day, and the box was on the porch before the end of the following week.
The folks at Fastway are pretty clever: They’ve figured out a way of using one ‘peg body on a wide variety of motorcycles, just by changing out one bushing. That bushing (they call it the “Universal Collar System, or UCS for short) is visible in the photo above, and is shown sticking out of the top side of the ‘peg to provide a low mounting position for a little more leg room on the cramped R100GS. I just pushed the bushing out of the ‘peg with the steel dowel (provided in the kit) and flipped ’em over before pressing them home between the copper jaw covers of a machinists vice.
Owners of early BMW twins are divided into two sorts; those whose centre stand bolts have failed and those whose bolts are going to fail soon. The root of the problem is that on the pre-square air filter models the stand pivots on bushes retained by a pair of bolts which screw directly into the frame. The continued heaving on and off the stand eventually loosens the bolts and the threads in the frame will start to fret. Retapping the frame to the standard thread (M10x1.25) and replacing the bolts delays the evil day, but when I found a bolt lying under the bike only days after doing this, I knew it was time to look for a better solution.