Story and photos by Giacomo Perticara
My dad bought his second-hand BMW R90S late in 1995 from a dealer, he was about 36 years old and I was 3. At that time, my mother was pregnant, and my brother was born six months after the purchase.
A normal dad would sell his bike when he starts a family, but since he was a child, he’d always wanted a BMW. Finally, this one became his.
When he showed the R90S to his friends, not many loved the look of it. Typically, at first you think it’s ugly, it’s weird, but after a while, you love it. To me, that’s what makes the R90S an icon.
In the ’90s, we did a lot of camping trips with the bike and friends. All with different kinds of bikes; one friend drove a Harley, one a Suzuki T500 (2-stroke), and one a Moto Guzzi California. The wives drove the car, my mother mostly drove with our Alfa Romeo Spider or a Mercedes-Benz W114.
Like the R90S, we still have both of the cars: my brother and I now often use the cars to go to work and school in them. When we did the trips on the R90S, he tied us up on him, with a belt. So maybe it’s not a surprise that my brother and I would fall asleep during the trip.
The R90S now has about 27,500 kilometres on the odometer, but it always starts. Without any hesitation, deutsche gründlichkeit—“German thoroughness”—as its said.
My father is getting older, and he’s been talking about finding a Harley-Davidson, as it’s “more comfortable”; that said, he still drives the R90S once or twice a year.
Someday, I’d like to drive the R90S with my own family and repeat history. These beautiful machines will not exist forever, we need to cherish moments and remember these feelings in any way we can.
