Bikes that made me: A BMW R 1200 S didn't quite fulfill the yearning

Not to be confused with simple desire, the yearning is a goal in and of itself, an experience that is substantiated by lack thereof. When harnessed for good, the yearning can bring us great art, new insights, and a deep connection with the human condition. When harnessed by me, the yearning brings anxiety, impulsiveness, and a BMW R 1200 S. Or, if you will, disappointment.

In the early and mid-aughts, BMW seemed to be ad-libbing customer segments and cooking up motorcycles to fit them. For examples look at the Scarver, Y2K Futurism on wheels, or the Rockster, a “predatory” (seriously?) take on the your-parents-ride-this R 1150 R. One such fistful of words from a hat saw the sport-touring R 1100 S get sharpened into the R 1200 S, a bike that sounded to me like the perfect escape from the intensity of early parenthood that I was experiencing.

I yearned for an old life that never existed, one that I had intentionally left behind. No amount of garnish could change my reality, but that didn’t stop my certainty that a sport bike was exactly what I needed to reconnect me with riding, the activity that had always been there to free me. The R 1200 S’s rarity assured me it was special, its beauty inspired me to imagine future memories of it in the sunshine, and it was built on BMW mechanicals partly shared with one of the most competent motorcycles I ever owned. I was convinced that my R 1200 RT only needed to be pared back into its essence for the shine to come through. Here was the wasp-waisted beauty that would ask nothing of my free time other than to ride it and stop wondering if my child would be OK. One YouTube rabbit hole and a few weeks of futile resistance later and I felt my troubles all disappearing under yellow paint. It worked for Van Gogh, so why couldn’t it work for me? Seeing my 2007-vintage, 42,000-mile example roll off the trailer was like a dream made real.

Unfortunately, sleepytime didn’t end when I lit up the “hexhead” BMW flat twin. I may have imagined a reconnection to riding, but the engine in the 1200S is more likely to reconnect me with a midday nap. At this age, that’s an appealing proposition, but this is a sport bike, isn’t it?

Not according to the manufacturer. BMW called this machine a “Character-Sports” motorcycle when it was launched, which seems about as honest as what I told myself about the reasons I bought this bike. Sure, the engine is a bit agricultural, but what about the rest of the machine? Underseat exhaust, that’s sporty. Solo cowl on a small, hard seat, that’s sporty. Low clip-ons, raked back? That’s very sporty. Luggage options at the expense of drilling holes in your rear body panels? That’s too sporty. BMW even managed to cram a 190-series rear tire on the back!

What of the less sporty parts? The wet weight of 470 pounds is less sporty but hardly a dealbreaker. Horsepower climbs to 122 near the redline, which makes the bike quick but not hair-raising. Paralever shaft drive and Telelever front suspension could be construed as detracting from sportiness but on the road only a nitpick bothered me. More on that later. The heated grips, fuel gauge, (switchable!) ABS, and Öhlins suspenders are things that no modern-day sport bike would bat an eye at, but in 2007 these were luxury items, not necessarily sports kit. No list of accoutrements can characterize a motorcycle, so what is the R 1200 S like to ride? How close did it come to satisfying the yearns?

Unfortunately, as I alluded to in the introduction, yearns mostly exist to torture you no matter what you choose to do. In this dance of the rise and fall, I usually salvage a memory and take it with me. However, unlike my other motorcycle purchases, there was no slow arc of coming to love the machine for what it is. My Aprilia Tuono 1000R didn’t ease the pain of any breakups but it did always entertain with its sneering attitude. My MV Agusta Turismo Veloce could not assure me about my career but seeing the tank logo made me feel like I was in a special club. So on and so forth, but not here. Not with the R 1200 S.

The point, or lack of it, was impossible to ignore after 800 miles of dating and waiting. No canyon ride, no light touring, no slink through town managed to endear the bike to me, and I finally had to admit that sometimes you can’t chisel a much smaller Statue of David and expect it to be compelling in its own way. In 2007 BMW was about to find its insight into what makes sports riding truly compelling, but it hadn’t yet. Every time I asked the R 1200 S to do something, it did. The clip-ons made the bike steer fine, the engine made it go fine, the shifter was stellar for a BMW boxer twin, so it was fine, and the lack of brake dive was cool until I wanted some steeper geometry on corner entry. Present in a motorcycle that required less corporeal suffering to ride it, these attributes would make for a fine machine. But the R 1200 S took without giving, not even something endearingly bad to remember it by. Sure, it had more creature comforts than my old Ducati 999 or Honda CBR600 Hurricane, but those bikes delivered on heating my very essence, not just my grips. As for the character portion of the “Character-Sports” descriptor? It has that, as long as “being hot and sexy” counts as character. Unless you’re reading this from very specific parts of Los Angeles, I don’t think it does

It doesn’t surprise me that BMW abandoned the sports (-character) boxer concept after the much sharper but much pricier HP2 Sport that followed the R 1200 S. For speed demons, the boxer twin of 2009 couldn’t hold a candle to the power and packaging offered by the S 1000 RR’s inline four. The closest modern equivalent, the R 1250 RS, is incredibly broadly capable but also comfortable. In case you start complaining about a lack of character, they make the R 12 nineT for people like you.

The somber reality is that BMW’s fun and wacky experiments often clash with their gold-standard design concept of a motorcycle as a tool to fit your life. I wouldn’t have minded so much if the rebel faction in the 1200 S was pure soul or a sharp edge, but it felt more like a false flag operation. I decided it was time for Cora-backed regime change. Only a single person contacted me in the few weeks I had the R 1200 S for sale and I ended up trading it to him for cash plus a project Ducati Monster S2R (which has the opposite problem of assaulting you with character). I never asked him, because it would have been weird to ask, but maybe the man had yearns, too. Maybe this one purchase would see him finally escape the stress of his architecture projects or cement his image as a person of style. Caveat desiderata, my friend, and if you’re reading this, good luck.

As for me? I’m not worried about my problems, because I’m sure the next bike will fix them. After all, things worked out for Van Gogh, even if the yellow paint didn’t.