- ZTechnik’s Titanium exhaust system came just in time for the 2006 Americade motorcycle rally in Lake George, N.Y. The stock pipes on my BMW R1200GS were just not cutting it for me. I loved practically everything about this machine, from day one, yet something vital seemed to be missing. . . . Audio intimacy!
The ZTechnik exhaust system went on quite easily. BMW informed me no tuning/remapping would be necessary. The operation was a simple matter of removing the stock exhaust at the coupler joint bracket on the underside of the bike near the kickstand and the upper support holding the muffler to the side of the bike. The directions included in the packaging were clear and easy to understand. Mounting the new system was a reverse of removing the stock system. ZTechnik supplies brackets and hardware, so you can store your stock system complete with original hardware. Total time for the new install was under one hour. If I had a second set of hands to help, I’ll bet I could have finished the job in half that time.
This system looks fantastic on the BMW R1200GS. The muffler is smaller in diameter than the stock muffler, thereby allowing it to sit closer to the side of the bike. BMW’s hard cases go on without a hitch and actually allow more breathing room for ZTechnik’s muffler, and the brushed titanium finish gives my bike a richer, more serious, aggressive posture.
A great feature about this Ztechnik muffler is a removable baffle. With the baffle in, the boxer twin-engine sounds only slightly more alert than with its stock muffler. The baffle comes out in less than a minute and requires the removal of a single screw. When I removed the baffle and hit the starter button for the first time, I felt as if my dowdy girlfriend had turned super vixen, right before my ears. Needles to say, I lusted to pounce on her!
I first experienced audio intimacy as a kid in the mid 1960s, while riding in the family Ford station wagon with Dad, on a trip toward upstate New York. It was a hot July day, and we were heading north to a bungalow in the green Catskill Mountains to meet up with the rest of the family. I thought I noticed something different about the car that morning, driving away from our Long Island neighborhood, yet my noggin was too preoccupied with visions of swimming under waterfalls and catching bullfrogs in the cool creeks, to pay it any mind. Once we hit the highway though, Dad romped on the gas pedal and my ears snapped to attention. Dad had the classic “cat who just ate the canary grin” painted on his lips when he looked my way.
“You better close your mouth before a bug flies in it,” he said, over the gushing air sound of our 4-60 air-conditioning system. (four open windows at 60 mph) He was right. My jaw had dropped half way to my lap.
“Wow, Dad, wow!” was all I could muster, before an ear-to-ear grin strapped my jaw shut again. My eyes bugged wide, like a tot on Christmas morning, and my head drifted left to right, Stevie Wonder style, trying to determine which ear angle made the rumble of Dad’s new sport mufflers sound the coolest. I concluded that hanging my head out the passenger side window presented the sweetest acoustic vantage point. Dad pulled me by the curly locks back into my seat. (Seatbelts were for airplanes in those days.)
“If you want to be ‘COOL’, remind me to give you a crew cut when we get there,” said Dad. The truth was that I already felt cool, especially after reading the expressions on faces in cars we were passing. “They’re called Hollywood Mufflers,” Dad reported proudly.
“Does Mom know?” I inquired. Dad raised his right eyebrow and rolled his eyes down in my direction. That meant, “Don’t ask stupid questions!”
“Sporty mufflers aren’t just for making your engine sound cool,” Dad enlightened me.
“They actually make her perform better and allow you an intimacy with what she is trying to say to you.” Dad called all of his mechanical things “she.”
“Why do you call it ‘she’?” I asked.
Dad elaborated. “Well, son, engines are a lot like women because they are not so easily understood, until you really listen to what they have to say, and you sure can’t hear them with a sock stuffed in their yap.” Dad caught himself. “Of course, you don’t want her screaming in your ear through a blow horn either, so let’s just say that getting her to purr like a kitten, brings out passion in a man.”
Now I was really curious! “What do you mean ‘passion,’ Dad?” Dad raised his right eyebrow and gave me his notorious glance.
In those days, I imagine I felt that Dad was practicing his sales pitch to Mom, in case she balked over the new sporty mufflers on her supermarket express wagon. Yet, once I strapped on the helmet and pounced on my titanium-laden maiden, an epiphany charged forward through time—Dad spoke the pure truth!
Today, I live in upstate NY. Riding the winding country roads through the peaks and valleys of the Catskill and Adirondack mountain ranges remains an exhilarating experience. This is especially true with the addition of my newly fitted ZTechnik exhaust system. It has added an element of renewed passion I had not imagined was probable.
The muffler exhibits a wide range of personality. At certain lower RPMs it almost has a classic vertical twin sound similar to the old Triumphs—shall we say a British accent—somewhat softer speaking, however. I noticed this while riding near my cousin Brian and his original 1968 Triumph Bonneville at Americade. Midrange, “she” sounds like a sportier triple cylinder and it makes my skin tingle. The noise disciples throughout the entire range are very exciting, yet by no means offensive, so your neighbors will not be giving you any dirty looks. However, they may want you to take them for a ride. Toward the top of the RPM range, my nostrils flare and I have to concentrate to stop my eyes from bugging wide open.
I can now honestly say that I love everything about my BMW. I am riding more passionately and attentively than I have in many years. ZTechnik’s exhaust system has rekindled my innate enthusiasm for riding.
Cruising down Main Street, Lake George, at the rally this year, Dad was behind me on his machine. He’s still riding! Looking in my mirror, I could have sworn I saw his head floating left to right, trying to discern which ear angle made my new sporty pipes sound best. Then again, perhaps he was simply checking out all the activity strolling along the sidewalks. I was going to ask him which it was, when we pulled over, but at this stage of life, I know what qualifies as a “stupid question.”
On the Sunday of Americade Rally’s end, riders went their own way. I headed to an old familiar waterfalls and creek, where I use to catch bullfrogs in the 1960s. The final four-mile stretch is a narrow country road that rolls up, down and around pastured lands, and arboreal dells. I envisioned myself swimming under the cascading falls. Perhaps I would even catch an old bullfrog if my hands were still fast enough, I pondered. Then I could let him go . . . for another 40 years.
We were alone now—on the open roadway—me and my ride. I cranked open the throttle. A tingling sensation ran up and down my spine. I listened for her RPM sweet spot in the ZTechnik range until—there it was—total intimacy. An ear-to-ear grin strapped my jaw shut tight.
I could now hear what “she” had to say!
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