i'll start one off..
apologies to those of you that might have seen this before as I might have mentioned it in the 'other place'
..aged 16, learning to do my own maintenance on my 'fizzy', undid the back wheel to tighten the chain etc..but... didn't do it up properly, totally forgot
following morning off to work in the holiday job, pouring with rain, whilst doing a right turn to enter a dual carriageway slip road, the back wheel suddenly moved and locked itself against the frame.. which meant obviously an enormous rear wheel skid. Being inexperienced i did what you're not supposed to do...and.. put my feet down. As i was wearing wellies, all that happened was I did a gentle and graceful 180 degree 'U' turn, before stopping.. and not even falling off
the following driver stopped and laughed his head off stating he'd never seen anything like it...which to be fair, neither have I.
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Was in Uberlingen a few years ago with the BMW. My mates had gone into town whilst I went to the Bosch agent for a part. On way back I saw them in the square by the lake and stopped. After 5 or 6 minutes chatting I realised I still had the clutch pulled in and let go. The bike ( and me ) climbed about 3 ft up a tree that was about 2 ft in front of me. Teach me to leave it in 1st gear. Luckily they all caught me but it was a lovely day and that square was so busy !
Ted
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Done similar, Westpig; my mistake was to forget to adjust the rear brake after doing the chain, then wondered what the funny burning smell was and why the damn thing wouldn't go above 20.
Anyone who's ever owned a mid-70's Honda will relate to this; I once spent fifteen minutes kicking a 400-four over (knowing the battery to be tired) only to find that I'd left the engine kill-switch on! :-(
My Harleys sometimes claim victims too; the first one was a 1975 Ironhead, kicker only, which was an absolute pig to start unless you'd got the knack of it. Outside my local pub one evening, my best mate (who had a notoriously short temper) turned up and blagged a ride on it. He fired it up, off he went; ten minutes, then fifteen, then twenty and I started to get worried; then a front wheel came round the corner, followed by forks, followed by a very angry and sweaty best mate pushing the Sporty and calling it (and me) all the names under the sun.
I went up to the bike, turned the fuel on, tickled the carb and it went first time. Cue second bout of bad language from my mate; he hadn't checked the fuel tap (owning a Honda CX he never switched his off) and had pushed it uphill for half a mile!
There was a sequel to that; a few years later he borrowed my old man's rotovator, which had one of those cut-outs on the spark plug, remember them? Since it hadn't been used for a while, Dad and I got it out, fired it up, and checked it over. Mate came to collect it, half an hour later his wife's on the phone; it won't start, he's going daft, can you help? Naturally I told her to ask him if he'd switched the petrol on. More swearing, yes he had. Got on the bike, went to his house; spotted the deliberate mistake (plug cut-out still on) straight away without him noticing, sorted it and of course it fired. To this day he still insists that he did turn the petrol on; I haven't the heart to enlighten him!
Edited by Harleyman on 28/01/2009 at 22:39
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Oh goodness, there's the Brad Lackey impersonation when I hit a big mid-corner bump while cranked over on a country B-road.
Of course, a bike that's leaned over when the wheels leave the road will suddenly head off on a tangent from the intended course .... onto the tree-lined grass verge. To this day, I do not know how I stayed upright.
When I stopped I had tree bark scrapes on my boots and an elbow, and a chunk of bootheel missing. Shaking so much it took 2 ciggies before I could continue on my way.
The silliest was on a very wet day. I put on the Belstaff and some light overtrousers that were a bit too loose and flappy. Kickstarted the bike and rode off.
Came to a halt at the first set of lights, and made to put my right foot down. Leg is somehow stuck, but the bike is already gently tipping to the right. Frantic struggling as the bike slowly falls over, with my leg underneath. Cue much merriment from surrounding traffic as I realise the kickstart lever had gone up my overtrouser leg.
Good job it was only my 250X7, easy to pick up :-/
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Many moons ago a group of us went to see a friend's band at a very trendy pub in Camden. Parked my bike right outside the pub, swanked around all night being one of the entourage.
I emerged into a glorious summer evening, swung my leg manfully over the saddle, fired up the engine and roared away...for approx 1.5ft before I toppled over sideways in slow motion. All of my mates and most of the drinkers were collapsed in laughter.
Guess which silly sod hadn't taken his disc lock off?
F2
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Forgot to add that the only damage done was to my ego!
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Done the disc lock waltz a few times. One spectacularly stupid mistake was....stopped on pub car park somewhere near Market Drayton to phone home. Couldn't get BMW started. Did a major strip-down, points, carbs, plugs, checked everything. Just about to call Britannia Rescue when I noticed I had hung my helmet on the twist grip and knocked the cut-out switch off....as they say in La Belle France.......un tossoir grand !
Ted
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Many years ago, before discs, I used a damn great chain and padlock through the front wheel and frame. Rode off. After removing chain, I wondered why front tyre felt like it had been inflated to 100PSI - forks were bent enough to prevent any movement.
A big vice and my heavy mate restored it!
Another acquaintance used to take his sidecar off every winter (or was it summer) and ride solo. Every year, without fail, he'd forget to put his foot down at least once!
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remembered another one
when i was 17, just passed my car test, i used to borrow mother's Ford Fiesta because I couldn't afford to upgrade my moped (Fizzy) due to having had to cough up all my savings to pay for the damage I'd caused to a girlfriend's dad's car (long story).
one evening driving back from a rural pub that had a sort of night club attached to it, we had to do about 10 miles on a dual carriageway...and it always used to be 'wacky races'.
Whilst whizzing back on the dual carriageway i caught up one of the older lads who lived in my village and to start with couldn't undertsand why i'd caught him, because a 1.3 Fiesta versus a Yamaha RD400 was no contest...then we realised there was 3 of them on it. It didn't look too safe, there were arms and legs everywhere.
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girlfriend's dad's car (long story).
Mini ?
I have a tale that involves a man in a dress and an RD350 in Paris - I'll wait for the right atmosphere.
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I have a tale that involves a man in a dress and an RD350 in Paris - I'll wait for the right atmosphere.
A tale like that should create its own atmosphere; let's hear it PU !
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Another acquaintance used to take his sidecar off every winter (or was it summer) and ride solo. Every year without fail he'd forget to put his foot down at least once!
Plus hundreds of others including me, despite switching 16" wheels for 18 or 19 at the same time, and yes, it would have summer :)
BB
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My brother dropped his Ducati in a petrol station.
No, I mean he actually dropped it.
He was lifting it onto the centre stand and the handlebar grip came off in his hand.
You can't stop a bike from falling AWAY from you!
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hi room, i did a similar thing ...took off chain washed it in petrol and then regreased it with high melt grease, but in a hurry forgot to seat the spring clip on the open link...i shot down the road and got about 50 yards and the chain went clean off the sprockets...honda 750 kz dohc.. no damage luckily just felt like a twit with an a
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Couple of years ago, accelerated off a slip road onto dual carriageway 2nd gear 12000rpm or so, click into third, engine still revving but no drive, clicked up and down the box but no drive.
Pulled over to the hard shoulder. Pillion footrest and helmet hook completely bent,
piece missing out of the side fairing about and inch or so behind my left thigh, rear hugger and chain guard in bits.
You've guessed it, chain snapped and wound out lucky it didn't lock up the rear wheel.
About twenty minutes later bloke pulls up in a Focus estate, goes to the boot and says
"Think you've lost this mate" while handing me a length of chain.
The chain looked fine, rings still in good condition. I religiously change chain and sprocket set every two years or 10k miles now.
I also found out last year that mirrors are not checked as part of the MOT.
Cleaned and checked the bike over the night before the test, on the sidestand and managed to exert enough force to see it going away from me. Just like the Ducati owner above you can't stop ~200kgs going away from you.
Managed to control the fall so the bike didn't crash onto the fairing (no crash bungs), still broke the offside mirror though.
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Many years ago, my girlfriend had a Honda C90. It had been left outside, uncovered, for two weeks while we'd been on holiday, and when we got back she called me to say there was a problem with the [centrifugal] clutch - it was "binding" in 1st gear and "slipping" in 2nd. I suspected damp or rust due to lack of use.
I stripped it down, cleaned / lubricated etc, took a test ride and it seemed fine. But when she tried, same problem as before. To cut a long story short, while we'd been away she'd forgotten which way the gear selector pedal worked so she was starting in 2nd and changing "up" into 1st.
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My Yam 250 in 1974, XFY 852 M (anyone know where it is? I would love it back!) rode onto the drive put it on its side stand, opened the garage door, got on rode into the garage and let it flop to the left with my feet on the foot rests. Forgot I had flipped the stand up. Had to sound the horn until my mum came out to help lift it off me, she stood in the door to the house wetting herself laughing while the exhaust started to burn through my boot.
Happy days.
Daedalus
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Here's a couple from 1971 about my Honda 50.
Trying to get up Harewood Bank on my commute from Harrogate to Leeds in torrential rain, the volume of water was just too much for the electrics and the engine missed and died, so I abandoned the bike in the lean-to of a sympathetic passer-by and took the bus to work. In the laboratory of the chemical works, my colleagues suggested I take a squirty bottle of acetone back to the bike to help dry it out. Well, it worked OK in the lab to dry out the glassware. Back in the lean-to in Harewood, the plug lead was covered in condensation so I gave it and the plug a good dose of acetone, wiped it with a tissue and kicked the engine over. No joy. I took the cover off the points and oily water oozed out so they got a good squirt of acetone as well. There was so little compression on the engine it could be fired up by hand. I pushed the kick start. Immediately I was enveloped in a curtain of orange flame which took eyebrows and some hair with it. The fireball disappeared. I snatched my glasses off which had become too hot to wear. The motor settled to normal tickover. Attracted by the cries of pain, the householder came out to investigate. Unwilling to admit to nearly burning down my transport and her shed, I kicked the bottle of acetone (and, accidentally, my glasses) out of sight and yelled "Great, it's working!" in a deranged attempt to account for the shouting. Before I left I found my glasses but not the acetone bottle.
Some months later I had been visiting a mate in a village called Sharow near Ripon. Occasionally the lights had taken to going out but a wiggle of the switch always restored them. So I left my mate's house in the early hours on a moonless pitch-black night, flat out down the bank, not out of bravado but so I stood a chance of getting up the hill out of the village. With the throttle on the stop, just as I was leaning left before the hill, the lights went out. I panicked and grabbed the brake. The front wheel locked and the bike stood up, skidding up a dew-covered grassy bank and embedding itself in the hedge at the side of the road. I went over the bars, landing on top of the hedge, quite slowly, and my boots hooked onto the hand grips. So I'm hanging upside down on the far side of the hedge facing the front wheel trying to get my bearings, the bike is upright in the hedge, the engine is purring away, and then the headlight comes back on.
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1965 - out for a night in Bishops Stortford , (from Chelmsford, but only because one of the groups father had a pub there), about 8 of us, the transport consisting of a Standard Vanguard and a scooter.
On the return journey at after midnight, the car ran out of petrol. When stopped by a friendly plod, the car was attached to the scooter by a makeshift tow rope. If he had waited until an uphill gradient, he would have seen us all get out and push. Friendly word, (probably lucky it was pre-breathalyser, although we could all stand upright), and he allowed the convoy on its way, with a warning to be careful.
He could not work out if was legal, but did point out we should really have a 'on tow' sign!
p
Edited by pmh2 on 12/04/2009 at 15:04
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