If I wanted to ride the BMW M 1000 RR, and not just build the Lego version, then Tim and Jim were coming along too.
“We’re not going to just let you loose on that thing,” said Tim Schaars, “It’s not an ordinary motorcycle. I’ll ride in front, to show you the route.”
“And I’ll be riding behind,” said Jim Faria. “Just in case.”
Just in case of what?
It was pretty clear: The Tim ‘n’ Jim Show was there to make sure I didn’t ride BMW’s motorcycle too fast on the nearby public roads. The M 1000 RR can be ridden at more than 300 kilometres an hour if you’re brave (or foolish) enough, and it takes only three seconds from standstill to break any public speed limit in Canada.
This wasn’t Canada. This was California, home of endless mountain roads, where you can lean a motorcycle into every corner and scrape the foot pegs against the asphalt every time.
Well, you can if you’re brave. The RR can lean over very, very far before the foot pegs even think about grazing the asphalt.
You’ve seen those racers who seem to be rubbing their armoured-leather elbows against the track through the corners? They could be on RRs. It’s a race bike, officially sanctioned to run in the World Superbike class. In Canada, BMW used it to win the Constructors’ segment of the 2022 Canadian Pro Superbike Championship, which pits the manufacturers against each other.
I keep mentioning bravery, because the $50,000 BMW doesn’t suffer fools. It has plenty of electronic wizardry to protect against inadvertent wheelies and sliding tires, but if you fight too hard against the laws of physics, it’s going to be painful, and it’ll be expensive.
You see the little black winglets on the front fairing, those aerodynamic panels just to each side of the headlight? They’re obvious when you’re looking down from the saddle. They add down-force at speed – up to 16 kilograms at 300 kilometres an hour – and they’re made of carbon fibre and cost $535 each to replace.
Tim ‘n’ Jim were there, contracted by BMW, to make sure I wouldn’t have to replace them.
Well, that’s what I thought, until we got going. Here in California, where riding between cars during a traffic jam is legal, the guys sliced through slow-moving town traffic like a pair of X-Wing fighters through a field of Imperial-class Star Destroyers. I followed along in the middle of the sandwich and gave up on signalling or checking over my shoulder, leaving those distractions to my chaperones. It’s not easy to flick a turn signal when most of your weight is resting on your wrist, or when your neck is craned way up to look forward from your prostrate body.
Sport bikes are designed to be comfortable and aerodynamic at high speed, which means they’re not comfortable at anything less. You’ll be happiest at 200 kilometres an hour and above, when the wind flows over your helmet and creates a supportive cushion under your crouching chest. At half that speed – in other words, anything approaching legal on a public road – the handlebars keep your hands and body so low that it’s like a perpetual push-up.
Somehow, I wrestled the RR through town traffic without breaking a mirror or a carbon-fibre winglet against any other vehicles. I did stall at the lights trying to start in sixth gear, but once out of the city, I could forget the gears and even the clutch: The RR has a smooth “quick-shifter” that makes the clutch lever unnecessary and the shifting seamless, like paddles on a steering wheel.
We headed up the mountain on Route 74, the Pines to Palms Highway (palm trees down in the desert, pine trees up in the forest at 2,000 metres). Along the way, the two-lane road squiggles and squirms around the ridges like the route of some giant manic mosquito.
The RR was sensitive to steering input. Most large and powerful bikes steer like freight trains and you need to prepare well in advance, but the RR, with its steep rake and ultra-light carbon-fibre wheels, would turn on a dime whenever I sneezed. Trust me, it’s not pleasant to sneeze inside a full-face helmet, but especially not when you’re following Tim leaning through a hairpin turn.
For the record, I could have overtaken him at almost any time: The RR weighs less than 200 kilograms, makes more than 200 horsepower, and finds its peak power close to redline at 14,500 revolutions per minute. If an accidental sneeze made my right wrist twitch, I could have flashed by in a moment, but the road was filled with blind corners and unpredictable oncoming traffic. Oh, and a speed limit.
When we eventually parked at a roadside vista high above the desert, a plaque reminded us of this: “Please take time to show respect for both the natural surroundings and those who share this highway,” it read. “Maintain a grateful awareness of the time given you to share with your loved ones and remember those who innocently lost what you may take for granted. Please drive safely.”
Jim also reminded me. “Before I did this, I spent 30 years chasing guys on fast motorcycles,” he said. “I was a California State Trooper. The thing about tickets – it’s not about the speed; it’s whether you’re safe or dangerous. Dangerous people get tickets. It comes down to common sense.”
With that, I kicked up the side stand and followed them back down the mountain into town. I stayed in first gear, sometimes right up to the redline, just to hear the stock Akrapovic muffler wail and crackle like a demonic drum corps, but settled everything down at the first set of lights. We slipped through the traffic and returned home, ego massaged and winglets intact.
The 2021 M 1000 RR is no longer BMW’s flagship performance motorcycle. That would be the 2023 model, with increased down-force and an extra eight kilometres an hour for its top speed. It will be quicker on the track, but trust me: Out on public roads, on any M-branded sport bike, it’s best to imagine Tim riding ahead and Jim behind, watching your back, just in case.
The writer was a guest of the automaker. Content was not subject to approval.