2025 BMW F 900 GS First Ride
As the Georgia pavement ends and the fire road beckons, I toggle the BMW F 900 GS’s ride mode from Road to Enduro Pro, climb a slippery slope, bounce off a berm and snake down a steep hill with the bike’s tail end sawing side-to-side. Then it’s up another hill, around a hairpin and down to a river crossing deep enough to for a good photo op but not so treacherous as to swallow me whole. Then the morning ends in the best possible way. While frothy brown coffee (eerily similar in color to Georgia mud) swirls out of the La Marzocco espresso machine, I look out the café window at the F 900 GS and give a wink to BMW for turning the underwhelming F 850 GS into something worthy of the GS moniker.
From Flabby to Firm
Coming from the company that launched the entirely improbable monster trailie category in 1980 with the R 80 G/S (the forward slash between G and S isn’t a typo—BMW’s naming protocol changed over time) the F 850 GS arrived at a time when the sands were shifting for large-capacity on-and-off-road motorcycles. BMW’s arch-rival KTM were endowing their Adventure lineup with a degree of off-road prowess that left the launched-in-2020 F 850 GS feeling a little soft around the middle. The 850 had a little too much weight, was a little too bland in its power delivery and was clearly more comfortable on-road than off. All things suddenly very passé within the segment. The F 900 GS tested here is nothing less than BMW whipping the dad-bod of the old 850 into fighting form.
First up was trimming weight. An easy 10 pounds was jettisoned by changing the fuel tank from steel to plastic. More weight was shed by a lighter subframe and exhaust system. Add it all up—or rather take if all off—and the 900 is a claimed 30 pounds lighter than the 850, for a claimed fully-fueled weight of 482 pounds. Hardly a featherweight, true, but where and how you carry your weight makes all the difference, whether human or machine.
Parallel-twins are beloved by engineers because they’re narrow (not much wider than a single) and because their compactness allows for far more flexibility in packaging ancillary components like throttle bodies and air boxes. The less-than-good is that parallel-twins, just like British twins of the 1960s, vibrate. In the case of the Brits, it was enough to numb the buttocks and fingers. Modern parallel-twins, like the BMW, dispense with most vibration via technology (balancing shafts), but still, the old nemesis vibration can be elusive to minimize. Curiously, while the 850 had a buzz about it that could become tiresome over a long day, the 900, despite its similarities and only a slight displacement increase, didn’t ever become tiresome during my two days in the saddle. Best of all, the new engine has significantly more character than the old.
Gone is the 850’s buzziness and in its place the 900 has a deep burble to its exhaust note. Vibration is still present, but it’s similar to the pleasurable thrum of a V-twin. It must be said that in terms of outright character, V-twins still rule the roost, though on a bike built to take on the Black Forest or the backwoods of Georgia, more important than character are characteristics—and by this measure the 900 is a quantum leap forward.
Muddying the Shiny Bits
If you’re intent on serious off-roading, the enduro pro package, as fitted to our test bike, is highly recommended. While enduro pro adds $1,495 to the 900’s $15,390 base price—bringing the total to $16,885—it gives you the tools you need to make haste in the dirt. While the stock bike has rain and road modes, the enduro pro package adds—you guessed it—enduro pro mode. Some of the features are subtle, like the handlebar on a .9-inch riser to better facilitate control while standing on the pegs. Additionally, there’s a stouter-than-stock 45 mm Showa fork and a fully-adjustable Sachs shock out back. Also significant is what enduro pro takes away—rear ABS and traction control that does its best to exert a little too much control. As I learned when I forgot to switch from road mode to enduro mode while heading into the bush.
As I climbed a logging road I was perplexed at the 900’s lack of enthusiasm. The engine ran as if the fuel tank was filled with grape juice and not premium fuel. But before I had much time to contemplate my dilemma I was pitched down a hill. I know it can’t possibly be true, but as I leaned on the rear brake the bike seemed to accelerate down the trail toward a hairpin turn. Again, I stabbed at the rear brake. Again, nothing. Then it struck me as I was about to strike a tree. Because I was bouncing overtop rocks and roots I didn’t notice that the rear ABS was cycling on-and-off with an apoplectic fury. Somehow (it wasn’t pretty) I reigned the bike in and brought it to a stop. Then I looked down. At the indicator in the top right of the dash. That said road mode. A quick stab with my thumb back to enduro pro and all was good in my world again.
Bigger Yes, but Lighter, Too
It’s easy to become blasé at the capability of modern motorcycles, but a tossable, controllable 900 cc dirt bike is an accomplishment. Because the 900 is so narrow, the power so controllable and the balance so confidence-inspiring—unlike many bikes this size it’s not top-heavy—it strikes an admirable, and elusive, balance. At least for me. I’m essentially a road rider who loves the twisties but I’m also unwilling to turn around when the paved road ends.
I’m also unwilling to make many concessions to play in the dirt. And the 900 doesn’t ask me to. Northwest Georgia backroads are a gem, and even at a pace quick enough to drag my toes and, occasionally, the footpegs themselves, the bike doesn’t ever have the flighty sensation that pavement can impart on more dirt-orientated bikes. And unlike many press events, where the ride is tailored to fit the exact strengths of the bike, my ride was very much in “real world” conditions. Which included a long stretch on the highway and a good-old-fashioned southern traffic jam.
Is the BMW F 900 GS for you?
While you’ll never confuse it for a Gold Wing, the 900 does most things well. Front end feel, in the dirt or on the road, is exemplary. The ride is plush off-road but doesn’t wallow on-road. Motorcycles are all about compromise. Doubly-so for an ADV bike. Which makes drawbacks difficult to summarize—what works in the dirt often compromises road manners. For instance, the narrow seat, which allows legs to cling tightly to the bike’s flanks, begins to fatigue the buttocks on the highway.
And while the parallel-twin has far more brio than the old 850, it still doesn’t have the outright character of a V-twin or even of BMW’s own boxer twin as fitted to the R 1300 GS. But it’s unfair to criticize a bike for what it isn’t. Truthfully, before I threw a leg over the 900 I didn’t have much enthusiasm. How different, after all, could it be from its predecessor? Very different, indeed, which has earned BMW’s F 900 GS a spot on my shortlist of bikes that can do it all with aplomb.
Neil Graham
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