Ocean’s 1300

BMW’s Smoothest Operation Yet

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Ocean’s 1300: BMW’s Smoothest Operation Yet

4 November, 2025

Words by:

Justin Jackie

BMW’s new R 1300 lineup feels like a sequel done right — familiar characters, sharper direction, and a reminder that the best stories were hiding in plain sight all along.

BMW has a long and decorated history in touring motorcycles. For decades, the brand has quietly perfected the art of comfort, control, and composure on two wheels. From the R 100 RT of the late seventies to the R 1250 RT that bowed out only recently, these bikes have defined the idea of going far without fuss. They’ve carried diplomats and daydreamers alike, all while humming along with that signature boxer rhythm that never seems to age.

Yet in the noise of the modern motorcycle market, it’s easy to forget that BMW still makes one of the best touring bikes on the planet. The GS has dominated headlines for years, its adventure narrative playing out across deserts and Instagram feeds. The irony, of course, is that most of us ride on sealed roads. The same blacktop where BMW’s touring bikes have always been at their most brilliant.

Which is why I was quietly excited to receive an invite to the launch of BMW’s new R 1300 range. Three bikes, one engine: the R 1300 RT, the R 1300 RS, and the R 1300 R. At first, it sounded like an exercise in fine-tuning, a sequel rather than a revolution. But over two days riding through the Yarra Ranges and up to Marysville, it became clear that BMW has rewritten more than just the script.

The morning began at BMW’s Australian headquarters in Mulgrave. The lineup stood in perfect symmetry, three models angled toward the light like actors on their mark. The RT looked the part of the old-school movie star, confident and composed. The RS stood beside it, sportier, its fairing giving it a leaner, more athletic profile. The R, stripped back and muscular, looked like it was already bored of the photo call and just wanted to get going.

Up close, the differences were striking. The RT is the grand tourer in every sense: a broad front fairing, electronically adjustable windscreen, 10.25-inch TFT display, and heated everything. Even the luggage system is electrified and adjustable in volume. You sit in it rather than on it, the seat a soft cradle designed for long days. It’s fitted with BMW’s new Dynamic ESA, which automatically adjusts damping and load, and the latest iteration of the Telelever Evo front suspension.

The RS sits between worlds. It wears just enough fairing to offer protection without losing the intimacy of a roadster. Its ergonomics lean slightly forward, sporty but still comfortable, with a clear focus on balance. The R feels completely different again. It’s the purist of the three, a bare-knuckle expression of BMW’s boxer formula. No unnecessary bodywork, no distractions, just that engine on display.

BMW’s team walked us through the new platform. The 1300cc twin is physically smaller, lighter, and produces 145 horsepower with 149 newton metres of torque. The gearbox now sits beneath the engine, lowering the centre of gravity further, and the aluminium frame has been redesigned to improve stiffness and steering response. “It’s not an update,” one of the team explained. “It’s a total reset.”

And then there’s the Automated Shift Assistant (ASA), BMW’s new clutchless transmission. You can ride fully automatic or flick through the gears yourself with quick, seamless inputs. It’s available across the range, but a few of the bikes at the launch were already fitted with it. I was sceptical at first. A clutchless BMW felt like a philosophical shift as much as a mechanical one.

Before we hit the road, I spent time just looking at them. The RT is one of those bikes that’s so confidently itself that it feels almost defiant. I joked with a colleague that it’s the “UNC” of the lineup, the older relative who somehow still has the best taste and the nicest shoes. Its style isn’t chasing trends. It’s just so functional that it loops back to being cool again.

The RS, in contrast, feels like the middle child that ended up good-looking by accident. There’s something unbothered about it, the way it carries performance without needing to shout. The R is the wild one, the naked twin that reminds you why simplicity still matters. Standing there, the three bikes almost felt like archetypes. I hadn’t turned a wheel yet, but the personalities were already clear.

When we finally rolled out, the RT led the way, gliding through Melbourne’s outer suburbs with the ease of a long-time commuter. Once we hit the Yarra Ranges, it settled into its element. The Telelever Evo front end gives it a strange sensation at first. The fork doesn’t dive under braking; instead, it stays flat, stable, as if the whole bike is calmly editing out the chaos beneath you. At speed, that stability turns into a kind of confidence that’s hard to describe. You feel cocooned but never disconnected.

With the RT, you don’t attack corners, you glide through them. The 1300cc engine feels perfectly matched to the bike’s size, a broad wave of torque that never asks you to work. It’s a bike built for people who measure their days in horizons. Somewhere between the heated seat, the adjustable windscreen, and the sound system piping through, I realised I’d stopped thinking about the ride entirely. The RT just does everything for you.

After a few hours I swapped onto the RS. Immediately the world sharpened. The handlebars sit lower, the feedback through the front wheel more direct. The suspension feels firmer, more communicative, and the smaller fairing strikes a perfect balance between comfort and sportiness. It’s quick, composed, and somehow easier to trust. Where the RT soothes, the RS engages.

On long sweepers it’s superb, holding a line with precision but still letting you play with throttle and body position. The ASA gearbox suits it perfectly, letting you concentrate on rhythm rather than mechanics. There’s something quietly futuristic about it, the way it slips between gears so cleanly you almost forget what’s happening beneath you.

Later in the afternoon, I switched to the R. It’s lighter again and feels immediately more physical. You can sense every movement, every input. Without the fairing there’s more wind, more noise, more connection. It’s raw but never crude. The R might not have the RT’s calmness or the RS’s polish, but it makes you feel like part of the machine.

Each bike felt distinct, yet connected by the same composure and clarity. The boxer engine ties them together, its low growl familiar but somehow more refined in this generation. The torque delivery is instant and clean. It’s the kind of power you use without thinking.

By the time we reached the Launching Place Home Hotel for lunch, the weather had cleared and conversation was flowing. Everyone had a favourite already. Some loved the RS for its balance, others couldn’t look past the R’s simplicity. I stayed loyal to the RT. There’s something deeply satisfying about a bike that’s so good it disappears beneath you.

That thought stayed with me for the rest of the ride to Marysville. Through unpredictable corners and open straights, swapping between bikes, it became clear that BMW hasn’t just built another trio of motorcycles. They’ve built a reminder of how good road riding can feel when it’s done right.

There’s a psychological element to it too. In motorcycling, as in life, we often overlook what’s right in front of us. We chase novelty, mistake noise for progress, and forget that the best things rarely demand attention. BMW’s touring bikes have always been there, quietly excelling, waiting for us to notice again. Riding the RT through the hills felt like rediscovering an old truth: that comfort, balance, and purpose can still be exciting.

The following morning we took the long way back through Kinglake. The roads had dried and the group spread out a little, each rider lost in their own rhythm. I started on the R and finished on the RS, the gearbox shifting automatically as the road opened up. It felt seamless, organic, almost human.

Back at BMW HQ, the bikes lined up in the same formation they’d started in. The RT gleamed under a patch of midday sun, the RS looked ready for another loop, and the R sat there like it was already plotting the next ride.

BMW hasn’t reinvented the wheel here, but it has refined it to a near-perfect circle. The new 1300 platform is more compact, more powerful, and more versatile, yet the soul remains unmistakably BMW. The RT turns that engineering into serenity. The RS turns it into motion. The R turns it into instinct.

If this were a film, it wouldn’t be a hollow reboot. It would be a sequel that earns its place. The same cast, tighter script, better direction, and just enough charm to make you fall for the story all over again.

Sometimes the best things are hiding in plain sight. The R 1300 range doesn’t shout about its brilliance; it just gets on with the job, quietly doing almost everything so well that we forget to talk about it. Until you ride one, and remember why BMW never really left the conversation.

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