BMW K 75RT Ultima
BMW K 75RT Ultima
Four-stroke, horizontal three cylinder
in-line, liquid cooled, DOHC, 2 valves per cylinder
Bore x Stroke
67 x 70 mm
Electronic injection, Bosch LE-Jetronic
Electronic ignition Bosch LE-Jetronic
75 hp 54.7 kW @ 8500 rpm
68 Nm @ 6750 rpm
5 Speed / shaft
Telescopic fork with hydraulic shock absorber. 185mm wheel travel
Monolever swinging arm. 114mm
2x 285mm discs 2 piston calipers
Single 285mm disc 1 piston caliper
810mm (31.90 inches) or 760mm (29.90 inches) for
low seat model
21 Litres / 4.6 gal
By 1983 BMW really wanted to get rid
of its line of air-cooled boxer (opposed-twin) motorcycles, that had been around
since dinosaurs roamed the earth, well, since 1923, anyway. The future, BMW
thought, lay in its new in-line water-cooled fours and triples (known throughout
the motorcycling world as the "flying bricks" because of the bulky, squared-off
looks of the engine). The fours came in 1000 cc capacity, while the triples were
750s. We all know how that panned out: customer insistence that only boxers were
"real" BMWs led to the development of the new oil-cooled line of boxers that are
still with us today.
The K75 made its debut in 1985, and over the years, a number of variants were
produced. There was a sporty-looking S, a general-purpose T and a touring RT
model. The four-cylinders are still with us, in three different 1200cc models.
But by 1995 the bells tolled for the K75. Although it was still selling
strongly, the end of this line of bikes was firmly announced by BMW.
This caused an uproar among the BMW dealerships. Many of them had been supplying
K75s to local law enforcement agencies (yes, the speedcops) and had lucrative
long-term contracts to deliver cop bikes. In response, BMW quietly re-opened the
assembly line one more time and produced one last batch of K75s for a few select
markets only. To show that these really would be the last of their kind, they
called it the "Ultima" (apart from South Africa, I know there are Ultimas in new
Zealand. But the Yanks seem never to have heard of it).
And that is where my bike comes from: probably built in 1996 and although it
doesn't have the full touring fairing, first registered in 1998 as a K75 RT. But
the K75's mechanicals didn't actually change much during its lifespan, and I
doubt my impression of this model will be wildly different from any others in
I bought the bike in 2003 while still in a state of shock: a free-lance
socialist had made away with my beloved F650GS and I was waiting for the
insurance to pay out when I spotted this blue brick in the BMW showroom. Only 20
000 km on the clock, and at a price I might actually be able to afford. Panners
and windscreen were included, and as it turned out, this was the last BMW model
to have hand-painted pinstripes. I called the local BMW mechanic, a guy I trust,
who informed me that the previous owner had been one of his fussiest clients and
that the only reason the kilometers were so low for a five-year old machine was
that the guy owned four other bikes! Three days later I came back and bought it.
Another 20 000 kms down the road with this bike, and I feel I can comment on it.
There are bikes with which you have an instant love affair that cools down after
a few months. And there are bikes that make you wonder if you did the right
thing for the first three months, after which it grows in your affection as you
come to appreciate its good points. The K75 belongs to the second category. For
a long time, I struggled to bond with the bike. Coming off a 650cc semi-dirtbike
single, it felt enormous, like riding a hippopotamus. Then came a 1000 km trip
to Bloemfontein and back, and it was in its element. It has served as my daily
ride to work and weekend distance-chomper ever since.
Nobody ever called the K75 a powerhouse. BMW claimed 75 bhp @ 8500 rpm. They
must have been celebrating something with lots of schnapps when they measured
that. Even when it was introduced you could get better performance out of a
Japanese 500cc. But while there are not too many horses in there, they are
horses with thick, short legs, and they tend to gallop around the mid-range. It
will cruise at 140-150 km/h all day without complaint at about half-throttle.
Top speed? I've seen 185 on the clock. Let's call it 170 km/h in real life.
There is a redline at 8500 rpm, but it is not of any real interest. Keep it
between 3500 and 7000, and you will get the best out of this machine. I have no
problem keeping up with my BMW clubmates in real-life riding. It will do.
The K75 has a counterbalancer and is regarded by those who have ridden both as
smoother than the un-counterbalanced four-cylinder models. I wouldn't know about
that. What I can say is that while you are always aware that there is an engine
going beneath you, it never becomes obtrusive. I've done 800 km days on it with
no more ill-effect than a slight numbing of the hands. And that was on day four
of that particular trip. Even so, when I lost a bar-end weight I replaced the
grips with foam rubber items.
The gearbox is traditional BMW clunky. How do you know when the group of bikes
waiting for a traffic light are all BMWs? Just listen when the light turns
green. Clunk! Kerr-chunk! Crack! Clunk-Clunk! This is something you just have to
get used to. You don't change gears on a BMW by vaguely waving your foot in the
general direction of the gear change. You place your foot where it should be and
p u s h.
Handling? Well, that's different. Maybe unique. First of all, the suspension is
straight out of the 70s. Rear is adjustable for preload, front is adjustable for
nothing. The design of the rear suspension predates modern ideas of how to build
a monoshock. Basically the swingarm, shock, drive shaft and rear brake are all
on the right-hand side. Seen from the right, it looks like an old-fashioned
dual-shock bike. Seen from the left, the rear wheel just floats around in space.
Up front, there are perfectly conventional telescopic forks.
This arrangement doesn't facilitate "floating" over road irregularities like the
best modern bikes (when they are properly set up, but that is another story). If
there is a bump in the road, you know about it. When you have to brake hard (and
the three Brembo disks pull the bike up smartly) the front end dives like a
submarine (Editorial Note: I wonder if this is the bike that spawned research on
the telelever system?).
If the bump in the road is in the middle of a turn, you will find yourself
airborne while leaned over. The suspension is just too antiquated to deal with
such things. But here comes the strange part: once you land and your wheels
touch tarmac again, the bike will simply continue cornering like nothing had
happened. You are still on the line you chose at the beginning of the turn. No
head-shaking, no rear-end waggle, nothing.To see how this is possible, we have
to look at the frame.
The K75 frame is basically a shortened version of the frame fitted to the K100.
This explains how the bike is so heavy (BMW claims a dry weight of 204 kg -
yeah, right, more schnapps, Helmut?), but also why it is so rigid. Remove the
saddle and you look down at two thick pipes that could probably support an oil
tanker. This is the bike's secret weapon: no matter how much the suspension
throws you around, the frame refuses to flex. No namby-pamby extruded aluminium
here, just good old-fashioned steel tubes bolted to the engine.
To get the K75 to go around corners takes a serious nudge on the handlebars.
This is not a modern sportsbike that steers with minute shifts of the rider's
weight. You have to countersteer it. Once in the corner, it will stay on that
line until you countersteer it upright again. This happens to suit me: I prefer
bikes that don't start turning without my express permission.
Overall impression of the handling: solid, very solid. Given an experienced
rider, the K75 can be hustled along.
Problems? I've had a battery die on me (acceptable, for a six year old machine),
and a fuse blow for no reason that anyone could detect (that one still bothers
me). Apart from that, nothing. The bike is fairly easy on tyres but seems to
have an appetite for front brake pads.
According to the internet forums, the whole drivetrain from clutch to final
drive is pretty fragile and needs to be tended like a baby, or it will
disintegrate in a mess of shattered splines. I haven't had that problem myself,
but then again, I leave wheelies and burnouts to the young bloods on their 'Busas.
Recently, I saw a K75 cop bike being brought in for its 160, 000 km service. It
had never been opened up or had any major surgery done to it. So if you ride it
like it was supposed to be ridden, the K75 can last well. Like all BMWs, the
service interval is 10, 000 km. Which is great, but a lot can happen in all that
distance, so keep an eye on your oil, water and brake fluid levels.
Fuel consumption works out consistently at 16-17 km/l . That gives you about 230
km before the reserve light comes on, and after that you have another four
liters or so to get home. One thing about BMW multis: they always were known as
thirsty beasts, at least compared to the boxers and especially the singles. Of
course, the experienced rider ignores the idiot light and uses his tripmeter
The K75 is a comfortable bike. Not in the league of the Guzzi Espada Mark II or
even the late airhead boxers, but comfortable enough. The seat is only slightly
dished: there is enough room to move around but only just. Seat-to-handlebar
distance is perfect for me, it places me basically upright and just slightly
leaning forward. The seat-to-footpegs distance, on the other hand, is a little
cramped. Against that, the footpegs are angled backwards by a few degrees, just
enough to fit the natural way humans like to put their feet.
Then there are those little touches that make people BMW fanatics. How can I
ever again live without a digital gear indicator? Mock all you like, but how
often do you feel around for a non-existent sixth or seventh gear on your bike?
Then, have you ever wondered why BMW riders use their centrestands more than
other people? Because it is so easy. Put foot on centrestand, flip out the
concealed handle just in front of the left pannier, and straighten up. No
heaving on the handlebars required. The sidestand on the K75, on the other hand,
tips the bike over to a ridiculous angle.
Did I mention panniers? I will never own a motorcycle without luggage capacity
again! Panniers and topboxes turn a bike from an expensive toy into a practical
form of transport. The panniers on the K75 were already second-hand when the
previous owner put them on. The rubber seals had long since gone and I didn't
have much hope of them being waterproof. Then I was forced to ride home though a
subtropical thunderstorm. This isn't like your typical North European drizzle.
You can easily get 20 or 30 mm of rain in an hour, visibility is down to about
ten meters and anyone on a bike gets drenched down to the undies within seconds.
When I got home, the contents of my panniers were bone-dry. I don't know how BMW
did it, but somehow the whole design of the bike diverts water away from the
It has become traditional in BMW roadtests for the journos to complain about
BMW's indicator system. Yes, BMW uses three switches to do what other bikes do
with one. This is true. It is also true that this is only a problem if you are a
professional motorcycle journalist who jumps on and off different bikes all the
time. If you own one bike and it is a BMW, you'll wonder what the fuss is about.
The K75 has self-cancelling indicators, by the way: these were common as dirt
back in the 80s but since then the bean-counters seem to have restricted their
use to a few top-of-the-range models, even at BMW.
My K75 sees most of its kilometers done as a ride-to-work hack. But it is a BMW,
and it is on the long, open road that its true character shines through. Take it
up to cruising speed of 140-150 km/h and it changes into that characteristic
lope that BMW somehow engineers into all its bikes. It's hard to explain to
non-BMW riders, but there is a rightness about taking a BMW out for a long ride,
a sense of the bike doing what it was always meant to do. All those little bits
of attention to detail start to add up and work together, and the kilometers
slide away underneath you with minimum effort.
So what kind of bike is the K75? In a way, it is a throwback to an earlier age,
to a time when motorcycles were meant to be transport first, then fun. Today we
see motorcycles being built to fit into smaller and smaller niches, and each
niche screams "yuppie toy"; louder than the next. Like the Honda CX and Kawasaki
GT lines, the K75 is a very honest motorcycle. Two wheels and an engine, going
on for mile after mile. Go anywhere, do anything (on paved roads, anyway) and
the further away the destination, the better. Not a great deal of performance,
but not a great deal of maintenance either.
I think I'm going to keep it.