When Motorcycles learn to think

Or: Why I struggle with automatic transmissions and driving modes.

I recently rode three modern motorcycles during a photo shoot: a BMW S 1000 XR, a BMW R 1300 GS and a Ducati Multistrada V2S. All of them came with the full package of electronics: fully automatic suspension, cooled smartphone charging trays, LED-illuminated drone landing pads on the top cases. Science fiction, presented on high-resolution panoramic displays.

Before you read, please note: this post was translated with the help of Deepl.
If you find any errors – please have fun first and then give me a hint.

However, the Bavarian Berliners confuse me even before we set off. What is the point of a clunky keyless key that saves on an ignition lock but requires an electronic locking and unlocking solution on the steering head and an additional button to start the motorcycle? This makes taking photos with constantly changing motorcycles complicated, because the bikes won’t start without a handshake between key and machine. And you have to store it in your already bulging leather suit.

Of course, someone must have thought of something at some point during the development of this gadget. But what? Just put a standard key in a lock and you’re done. Keyless is simply senseless if it’s not solved like it is with Tesla.

Confusion
and Strangeness

Then something strange happens on the Multistrada: When I release the clutch, the engine revs up on its own. But why? Hill start assist? Anti-stall assistant? It may be well-intentioned, but it’s annoying as f***. Because when turning at full lock on sloping roads, I don’t need any gimmicks that dilute the throttle response.

What’s more, I realize once again that I’m obviously too stupid for quick shifters. The gear-changing technique I’ve honed over 30 years has become so deeply ingrained in my reflexes that any quick shifter gets in my way. Every single gear change causes the BMWs and the Multistrada to choke.

When Motorcycles learn to think. Search the menu — search! — Search the menu — search!

Probably it’s possible to deactivate all the start, shift and fall assistants in the depths of the riding, suspension, advanced and god modes. But during a photo shoot there’s no time to dig through dozens of settings. I take the risk anyway and promptly turn the grip heating up to the steakhouse level. I can’t find my way back. Damn it – if there’s one thing I hate when riding a motorcycle, it’s warm hands.

Too much
information

The current motorcycle world is clearly moving towards fully networked, all-round digitalization. Every time it passes by, the Multistrada connects to the photographer’s smartphone and then, a few meters later, complains a lost connection. The intercom has been trying to do the same thing for hours, but without success – despite all the high-tech, Mesh does not support Bluetooth, so photographer and model have to continue shouting at each other.

A rotatable, tiltable and pressable thingy on the BMW handlebars fills the screen with variety. Toggle switches push the windshield up or change the radio station, which streams into nothing because: mesh. In dynamic Sport Pro ChatGPT mode, the over-motivated lean angle indicator tells me something about 50° – Hey, MotoGP manager: Call! Me!

In light of this, the gear shift recommendations for saving fuel seem rather amusing.

Miracles
at the touch of a button

Cables on forks and suspension struts power servomotors that turn magic screws. Depending on the riding mode and asphalt conditions, this happens in real time, too late or at the wrong moment. I can’t explain the lowering of the GS rear end after the engine start. When riding, the raising happens unnoticed. Modern bikes can change their personality faster than teenagers can change their mood. Just rock through the different riding modes and be amazed.

Or surprised.

The appeal
of imperfection

I traveled to the photo shoot on my old Ducati 748s. This puts the multitools from the current model year in a different league, because it dates back to the era of push-button phones, without rain, road or rocket-to-Mars modes. But it has its quirks: sometimes it runs like clockwork, sometimes it stumbles. This is usually due to minor issues such as a chain that is too dry or insufficient air pressure. Of course, this is not monitored automatically – brake dust-black fingers are required here.

And if anything on the handlebar fittings can be turned, twisted or tilted, then it’s broken.

The 748 probably has that much-vaunted “character” that compels me to listen to it and guess how it’s “feeling”. There are no FAQs available via QR code. No display tells me whether it’s possible to lean any further; I have to feel it myself. My middle finger does the job of the non-existent ABS and I have to get down on my knees to check the oil level.

The tilt sensor is located in the saddle.

The computing power of modern motorcycles is sufficient for a moon landing, but the electronics of my Ducati are limited — apart from the fuel injection — to occasionally lighting up the idle and fuel level lights. The 748 has neither CanBus nor driver assistance systems and does not make an emergency call in the event of a crash. The engine simply stalls if you engage the clutch too roughly. If you brake insensitively, the tires leave skid marks and after a day of riding, your left big toe hurts.

The 748 is a non-sparking conglomerate of steel, aluminum and plastic parts, garnished with carbon fiber that has become dull. And perhaps, after 25 years with it, I am now similarly antiquated.

Between man
and machine

Of course, I’m not against progress – the Zero SR/F, which stands alongside the 748 and the Harley in my garage, is the best proof. I know that ABS brakes better and I appreciate the work of the Zero traction control system out of every hot corner. I realize that electronic damping control offers advantages and I suspect that some people want to work their way through their Spotify playlist or click through the color variations of their tank ring ambient lighting while riding.

But there are days when I want to feel the engaging of every single gear in my left toe. Days when I want a chassis that hits me when I miss a bump – not one that takes me by the sky hook and deals with riding mistakes. I want a motorcycle that fights back when my mind is not on the task at hand.

These are days when I don’t want to know in real time how much gas is left in the tank, days that only end when I pull out the old style metal ignition key. These are days when my motorcycle knows only one riding mode: Me.

But: The GS’s electrically height-adjustable windshield was really cool.