Worlds Funniest Motorcycle Related TRUE Stories

[woodsy]

I am starting this thread because I am BORED out of my MIND waiting for the snow to thaw... Thought it would be fun if we could swap some TRUE bike stories... I'll start cause I thought of it :)
Back in the mid 60's my best friend Dennis and I were not only school mates, we were riding buds! I had a Sears Allstate Moped Dirtbike :) and he had an 80cc Yamaha (I believe it was a YG1 if memory serves). We not only rode em but fixed em too!
On this particular day, He and I were at his house working on em together - I guess now adays its called "bonding" - back then it was just called "working on our bikes".. We had both bikes sitting on his parents patio concrete floor. Their home had a small "L" shaped patio that was bordered by a kitchen picture window situated about 3 feet above the concrete slab on one side and a solid wall on the other leg of the "L". I had just finished tightening my chain when Dennis said he was ready to start er up. His bike was sitting on its center stand withthe front tire about 8 feet from his Mom's kitchen window. He climbed on the bike and gave it a kick. The bike started, he reved it a little and the throttle stuck.. Back in those days, quiteness was not a virtue of the 2 smokers (as I recall - NOTHING was quite back then) and his Yammie certainly took part in the "noise was cool" game.. We found out that the higher one of those little suckers reved the more panic it caused as he and I ran around the bike trying to fiqure out a way to shut it off.. I will NEVER forget the look on his face when the thought came to his mind to just push down real hard on the rear end.. I also will NEVER forget the look on Dennis's Moms face as she came running out the kitchen door with a huge dinner spoon in her hand covered with mashed potatoes :) Seems that when the bike went thru the kitchen window it chased her around the table before it crashed thru her China cupboard!! Dennis, being chased by his mother flaying a mash potatoe spoon over her head was rounding the corner of the Post Office while I was starting my Moped/Dirtbike to head for home.. Funny, while thinking back I dont remember what caused the sticky throttle on his bike and I dont remember any "bonding" going on while fixing it... Maybe it just fixed itself over the summer while it was sitting in their shed :)
That's mine!!
Someone else??
Woodsy

 

[fender92883]

I crashed once...actually, lots of times...none were all that funny...not to me anyway...at least at the time...

Probably my favorite crash (that I did) happened when I was playing around at the LMC clubgrounds. It had just rained the night before and there was a slippery tree limb laying across the trail on a slight slant. I thought I could use the little whoop-de-doo right in front of it to pop up my front wheel so I could scoot right over it, so I gassed up a little to get some more speed. Apparently there was a group of people (my Dad and other MTR's included, luckily my mom was still in the RV :ohmy: ) standing nearby watching and listening because they wanted to hear my new PowerCore 4 exhaust on my Honda. Anyway, I'm pretty much going as fast as I can in 5th gear when I get to the branch. Whoosh! I lost the front wheel before I could yell "D'OH"! It probably took me 1-2 minutes (it seemed like an eternity) after hitting the dirt afterwards to stand up, pick my bike up and get it running again. Needless to say I was a LITTLE more timid the next time I tried to cross it...or any other branch for that matter... :clue:

The only other thing I did that I can think of right now happened at Rites of Spring last year. It was Friday afternoon and I was so excited to go riding that I decided to go out exploring. I found a little piece of trail there that I assumed was the kids' trail, since the arrows read "Kids' Ride & Vintage Ride". The loop started at the campground and took me out to the road coming into the campground. I rode that 3 or 4 times then came back to the campsite. Anyway when my dad told me that the kids' loop was 10 miles and I realized that my little loop was only about 3, I thought I must have missed something, so I decided to go back out and take another spin. I found that the trail continued on the other side of the road, so I crossed and kept going...and going...and going...pretty soon I end up at US-10 (about 13 miles away from the campground, I later discovered) and run out of arrows! I look in my gas tank and it looks like I'm almost out of gas, so I don't want to turn back...I didn't realize that I was on the big loop. After asking about 5 people where I was and none of them having a clue I decided to go back the way I came, hoping that I can at least make it CLOSE to the campground. Eventually I made it. When I got back I was greeted with friendly words like "Where the heck have you been?!" and "Your dad's gonna' hug you then KICK YOUR BUTT when he gets back!" ...they should really be careful about which arrows they use to mark the 70 mile adult loop...

 

[Tom Dixon]

Well. MY story starts on Labor Day Weekend at the LMC Clubgrounds. That Saturday evening some of the Jackpine winners that were there(Tim Leathers, Brad and Brett Becker, and me)were taking pictures in front of the big start/finish sign. After all of the trophy pics were taken, we decided to get some pics the 4 of us riding wheelies. So we tried a few and got some good pics. So we went into the woods and rode on the short loop and came out on the other side of the field. As I exited the forest I pulled the front wheel off the ground in 3rd gear. I carried it out into the middle of the field when the power came on REAL strong and over I went, SLAMMING my face into the ground. This is how I got the name Farmer Tom the Face Planter. I don't remember much from the rest of the night. Total damage: 1 broken rear fender, 1 broken visor, and 1 severely damaged ego.

The End

 

[2TrakR]

I'll try a real cheap and easy one:
Was "checking out" my friends new Kawasucki 100 by riding it around our field, woods etc. This is one of those (early 80s?) street/dirt bikes, it's a 2 smoke but looks like those two wheelers you see bellowing smoke in crowded Taiwanese cities. Anyhow.
Got the idea to "do lines" on the local two lane blacktop. It's a county road, but traffic is usually pretty light. IF you must know, lines are when you weave between the yellow dashed lines on the road. My mother taught me how (she used to ride me all around on her dirt and street bikes).
So, here I am, minding my own business, doing lines, "thinking hey this is a neat little girly bike" and what a nice spring day.. About a 1/4 mile later I see a car in the distance.. Hmm. Better get off the road - after all I don't have a drivers license nor is this bike plated. Lucky for me it's the State Police and he is VERY interested in talking to me. I see the lights come on and he comes flying up, sliding in the gravel on the side of the road. I'm thinking should I outrun him again? But then I realized this bike would be faster with pedals! And so I played dumb as possible (not hard) and managed to get away with a stern warning. Thankfully he didn't recognize one of the "outlaw quad riders" that he had chased down this same road 4 months earlier!

 

[woodsy]

How is it that all these stories sound just like something out of my life? Does everyone feel this way? Maybe we are not all that different from one another :) ...
One HUGE difference is that my Mom NEVER taught me to do stuff like that - COOL MOM there 2tracker!!

 

[KiwiBird]

We always went riding on Sunday after my buddy got home from church.

I'm waiting at his place when he comes riding back from church on his bike and then trials ride down the side path and around in to the back yard where I am. He comes to a complete halt and balances for a couple of seconds with a big grin on his face before trying to put his foot down - trying because his shoelace is looped around his gearlever. I watch in "horror" (yeah - RIGHT!) as he slowly, but in deep panic, proceeds to plant himself in to the ground right in front of me - dressed up in his Sunday best. I'm laughing so hard I can barely get the bike off him but he slays me with "Next time I'm wearing my slipons".

 

[70 marlin]

Just a quickie. First brand new bike. 1985 Honda ATC200X she was the envy of every 14 yr. old @ the gravel pit (very large but ride'ble hills) This younger cousin, of a fellow rider friend of mine. Was begging to ride my new bike. So I let him with the "old you wreck it you own it". He had a clamped out old Yamaha Tri250 three wheeler. The kid said lets drag up the hills. I go NA. Well I get suckered into a drag. We line them up, and up the hill we go. About half way up the hill the Yamaha runs out of steam. So I hop off the bike to pull around the front end. I forgot that its a automatic and about time I step off the bike. It starts heading backward as fast as it went up the hill. Naturally it going end over end. The kid was in tears. So I had to fix the piece of crap for him. And the rest is history. There’s so many more stories:>(

 

[Reesknight]

Kiwi's church story reminds me. Late 70's, me and a friend are riding around the neighborhood on my DT100 waiting for church to start. We got our shades on, nice clean clothes, a little smell good for the ladies lookin all cool. I take the gravel road that makes a circle back to the main road and there is a mudhole, well more like a pond, that covers about all of the road except about a foot on each side. No problem for me to negotiate tho cause I know what I'm doing so I head for the one foot of dry land to the side of the mudhole. I have no idea how we got there, my friend riding on the back MUSTA done something cause the next thing I know we're layin in the mudhole, covered with muddy water. No more smell good, no more clean clothes but we were laughin our butts off
Fast forward about 12-15 years. The brother of this friend and I decide we want to get back into riding again so I find an '85 TT600, just a tad bigger than the DT100 :think: , and he finds a clapped out '77 TT500, basically a street bike with knobbies but back in the 70's that was a nice bike! Anyways we're sittin up on the mountain, neither of us had ridden in that 12-15 years so we're pretty intimidated by these bad boy toys, and we're staring at this hill thats about a 50 ft climb and almost vertical the last 7-8 feet. Actually we're sittin at the top of it cause there was another way up it and he decides he's gonna climb it so he goes back down and is sitting at the bottom giving himself a little bit of a run at it and I'm still at the top watching. He sits there reving that 500 motor up for about 3 minutes, letting the sound of it build up his courage, then he takes off, holding it wide open, then hits 2nd gear. He's roosting all the way up the hill, worrying if he is gonna make it to the top, so he don't let off......until he leaves the ground at the top :ohmy: He goes about 15 feet into the air and is looking down at me and his eyes are about the size of silver dollars :eek: When he hits the ground, his suspension is basically just springs, his chest slaps the gas tank which causes his wrist to give the throttle another shot of fuel so he lunges forward again and just barely gets it layed down before it goes off the 30ft drop on the other side. I run over to make sure he is alright and he is laying there laughing so I bust out laughing too :laugh: Thats one of the funniest things i've ever seen. Of course I had to try it too but i let off about half way up and coasted over the top. :moon: That hill is nothing to climb now but sittin on top a 600 after not riding for 12-15 yrs and then was riding a 100, it was pretty intimidating

 

[Smit-Dog]

Back around 1980-81, my step-dad had just taken delivery of a brand new Suzuki PE-250.

http://community.webshots.com/photo/55180786/55180939XJFlVF

We both went out for a couple hour trail ride to break the bike in (I rode a PE-175 at the time). After we came back to the cabin and had lunch, he asked if I wanted to take it out for a run. He stayed back at the cabin, and I went back out with my mom (on a Honda 3 wheeler!) for a quick ride.

The 2-track section we were on was much like a roller coaster ride. Nice, smooth, up and down hills that you could run pretty fast in 4th gear or so. With plenty of speed, you could launch off the crest of one hill and land near the bottom of the next hill, and then repeat it again over and over. A really fun section launching every 15 seconds over a hill, but with blind crests at the top of each hill, and frequent run-in's with army tanks, it's the kind of no-fear (i.e. stupid!) riding that only a 16 year old would do.

With my mom far behind, and me in Bob Hannah mode, the adrenaline rush had me pushing 5th gear. On about the 5th hill in the section, as I was accelerating up it, my front tire hit a round, melon-sized rock. Unfortunately I didn't hit it squarely, and the handlebars jerked violently off to the left size, almost as if my spindly 125lb body and toothpick arms were not attached to the bike. Keep in mind that this was long before steering dampers, bark busters, chest protectors, elbow pads, etc. I had on my new hi-tech Bell Moto III full-face helmet, thankfully retiring my bright yellow open-face model the season before. I was outfitted in Hi-Point boots (with the shiny metal shin protector and 10 buckle straps!), gardening gloves, Levi blue jeans, and blue "Have a Nice Day" smiley short-sleeved t-shirt.

What was supposed to be me and the bike shooting off the top of the 2-track trail, turned instead into a sudden and violent 60 degree turnoff straight into the woods. The first 30 feet or so were pretty uneventful. Other than my death grip on the handlebars, I was just along for the ride as the bike blasted and bucked through hidden logs, stumps, and saplings like a pissed-off bull at a rodeo.

With every bump, stump, and buck of the bike, my white-knuckled grip on the throttle only served to antagonize the beast. The whip-like saplings, however, soon gave way to their much bigger brethren, and my senses were keenly sharpened. The grouping of 2 foot diameter trees were more than eager to help slow down my spontaneous and amateurish attempt at "event trail". Fortunately, some remnant of my 7th grade science class came back to me, as I remembered the intrinsic reflex of "fight of flight". Target fixation quickly gave way to self-preservation, and I bailed off the bike like a spooked cat the instant the front end slammed into the tree.

I'm not sure how high the back of the bike lifted off the ground upon impact, as I continued on past the tree and tumbled safely onto some vegetation and musty, rotted tree limbs. The forest can sure be a quiet place once the trees stop whizzing past your head. After a quick head-to-toe inspection, it was time to walk around the tree and pick up the bike, laying lifeless, save for a spinning front wheel. Wow... doesn't look TOO bad. Hmmmm.... Pick it up, and straddle it. Oh-oh... Why is the front tire almost touching the engine? Why won't the forks compress? Oh-oh.... THIS ISN'T MY BIKE!!!! Thus began "The longest trail ride home..."

Limping back to the cabin, thoughts raced through my head on how to "fix this" (i.e. HIDE this!) from my step-dad. All in all he was pretty cool about it. His comment was that his insurance would have covered my medical bills, but the bike repairs I pay for! And guess who had to ride the old Suzuki DS-185 for a few weeks while my step-dad rode my PE-175 until his forks were replaced (metal tank... and it was ORANGE!).

http://community.webshots.com/photo/55180786/66768123NoPgFJ

The bill came to almost $400. Ouch.

Although I felt like a damn fool for wrecking his new bike, I didn't feel as stupid as when I accidentally shot the gas tank of the family jeep, but that story is for another forum...

 

[woodsy]

AAAAHHHHHHHH HAHAHAHAAHAH ahhhhhh hhhhh aahahahahaha HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA :) :) :)
You guys are NOTHING short of AWESOME!!
HEY SMITDOG, getting kinda FREE with those bike photos arent you? Thats not like you :) !!!...........