Biking Stories, I wanna hear em!

[Kirkus51]

This Forum has been a bit slow lately and I'm hoping this thread will wake it up a bit. I'm talking stories. We all have em and I would like to hear a few. I've got a ton of em and I'm sure you guys have tons more.

I'm hoping for upbeat stuff, so lets leave the accidents out of it, unless it was funny and nobody got hurt.

 

[koifarm]

Tales

Back in the 60's I was riding Triumphs, mainly a 62 at that time. While headed home from work, tired, headed for the local bar and noticed a car parked on the curb ahead, saw a puff of exhaust and his front wheels began to cut left I was about 15-20 feet behind the dude and figured he'd seen me and would not pull out, but he did, bingo, managed to brake heavily but still came to a stop right next to his window, which was open, he was about halfway out into the roadway with me parked within inches and alongside his drivers side window.
Totally pissed since I'd seen him look in his side mirror and rear view and figured he spotted me, but no, he decided it was clear and began to pull out causing the near accident.
I calmly, but in a huge rage at the asswipe, got off the bike, walked around it while he was apologizing madly, got up to his window, grabbed his left hand rear view mirror and twisted it off the car with my hands, threw it in the car across his chest and it bounced off his passenger door.
"If you don't fucking use it, you don't fucking need it!" and got back on the bike and rode off.
Still steaming.......I was much more vocal in those days, and a bit of an asshole when shit like that happened. I've calmed down now, and just put a few .45 rounds in his solar plexus and leave, I don't yell near as much...

 

[T-boy]

My primary mode of transportation when I was in college was a Yamaha 360 which I kept parked outside of my apartment complex. One day I hopped on it and took off only to stall out about 200 feet down the road. Wouldn't start after that. Can't be out of gas, I just filled it up the day before. So my brother-in-law and I loaded it up and off to the dealer we went. Got to the dealer and proceeded to explain what was going on. The bike fired right up for him. As I took off for home, it started pouring rain...a cold rain. About a mile down the road it quit on me again. My brother-in-law had taken off in front of me and didn't see me stopped along side the road. I pushed it back to the dealer and proceeded to rip him a new one; after all, I'd only had the thing for 2 months and it was broken down. Dealer tried to start it and it wouldn't start. He unscrewed the gas cap and said, "you're out of gas." Evidently someone had siphoned my tank during the night. Felt like an ass, but I did get a free tank of gas out of it. My brother-in-law showed up about 5 minutes later. Moral of this story...always check the obvious first.

 

[B06Tang]

Bonneville 50th Anniversary

Here is my story...hope you like:

It was August of 2009 and I was still stationed in England. Triumph was having their 50th Anniversary to celebrate the Bonnie where they lined up Bonnevilles from 1959 and ran them up all the way to 2009. I got lucky as my bike was chosen to be parked in the 2006 spot for the exhibition and needless to say, I was pretty excited about it. This took place in Gaydon which was about 2.5 hours riding from where I lived. I packed the bike up with a seat and saddle bags. I had a lot shit to pack as I wanted my Bonnie sparkling while she was on display and rolled out on a Friday afternoon and came back on Sunday.

It was a monster of a day weather wise that day; clear but 50 mph crosswinds and I was taking the highway to get there in good time because of the things that I had to do. The highways going across the midlands are long and flat so crosswinds play a big factor and I was getting shoved all around the place, especially with how the Bonnie was loaded down. It was no fun...I was really exaggerating my counter balance point on the seat each and every time I got nailed with those winds just to stay in my lane...much less trying to ride a clean and tight straight line. I finally got off the highway and stopped at a pub for some lunch and calmed my nerves as I was pretty frazzled. I have ridden in a lot of different conditions; zero degree temps, thunderstorms, snow storms...you name it but my worst are those damn cross winds. I want the bike to be able to respond the way I expect it to and know it will lean left or right when I do specific things...crosswinds change that dynamic a lot and throws in a level of unpredictability.

I finally get rested up at the pub and my spirits return to me and I head into Gaydon on a really great B road. The crosswinds are still present but they did not have nearly the impact on the B road that they did on the highway...more than good enough to live with. The road was fantastic! Carving and twisting all the time, hardly ever going in a straight line for more than just a moment, and lush, rolling hillsides on both sides of you. I have always loved the west midlands much more than the east midlands. A little more elevation involved and the scenery is absolutely gorgeous. After about a half hour, I start rolling up on the infamous speed cameras...I hated those damn things. Go five mph over the speed limit and a picture is snapped off of your plate number and a ticket is mailed right to your house. You have no choice but to do the limit...especially if you are in a new area and have no idea where the cameras are located. So I was taking it easy as I got popped for speeding just the week before this trip...I didn't need another £300 ticket. What I learned though is that the locals know exactly where these cameras are located at so they fly like hell inbetween them and slow down when the next one is coming up. My first time through this part of the countryside...I had no idea where they were at. With that said, a delivery van whips around me on this narrow, two lane B road and passes me but buries the back of his van right in front of my front wheel and shoves me off the road. Luckily, I was at part of the road where there was actually a shoulder to ride into...if this had happened to me a mile before, then I would of been put into a 12 foot drainage ditch. I grabbed a whole bunch of front brake, put the bike into the shoulder, and narrowly escaped making contact with the delivery van.

I caught my breath on the shoulder of the road and then it happened...something in me just snapped and I zeroed in on that van. I slammed the clutch out and just buried the bike going after the van. We rolled up into this village and the van was at a stop light waiting for it to turn green. I pulled up alongside his passenger side and looked over at him through the passenger window, not thinking about my appearance as I had an open face helmet with a black buff covering my face and goggles. I quickly commented to him; "you mother fucker...you want to run me off the road fuck face??!!!" As I finished my colorful statement, I reared back and punched his passenger side mirror and to my surprise...the mirror went flying off the truck and a few feet up in front on it on the road. I guess this must of shocked the guy a little as he looked at me wide eyed, put his van in first gear and ran the light. There was a part of me that still wanted to follow after him but then the aging side of me told me to drop it so I did. I rolled the bike into the gas station, got a cup of coffee and talked with a guy there laughing his ass off as he saw everything that just happened. Ended up that he was going to the anniversary celebration as well and was riding his America there. I told him that I was frazzled and tired of looking at maps; if he led the way for the rest of the trip, then the first round of pints would be on me. He took me up on the offer, we rode in, got a pint and I had one of the best weekends I ever had in England

 

[Sal Paradise]

True, absolutely true story.I swear. This labor day weekend, my Buddy Jorge and I headed for our anual overnight trip in the mountains. Jorge has the Vegas, which he loves but I think its a heap of shit, and believe it or not, my Bonny will eat that thing for breakfast lunch and dinner. I beat him in a drag race and in the twisties too, but thats another story. Jorge shows up for the trip in his usual skid lid and sunglasses, the Vegas roaring through open pipes. The beast vibrates so bad that Jorge's hands go numb in the first half hour. We do these rides hell bent for leather so the bike must b vibrating a lot and I frequently see Jorge shaking his hands. My hands, by contrast, are fine. I can go all day at 80 and not so much as a tingle.

So we head north and about 90 minutes out, on the way up to Bennington where we are staying, we stop at this little town in the mountains. Its not really a town, more one of those intersections with a bar and a store and creepy redneck locals riding around on the roads with ATV's. We pull into the empty dirt parking lot of the local Porky's. I have to check the map because its all mountain passes up there and I don't know the roads, so I'm checking the map. Jorge is a certain age where he has to pee at every stop.

I'm reading the map and Jorge decides to pee on this bush right on the side of the road. After a couple minutes he starts cursing in Engish and Spanish. I ignore him. The swearing gets worse and he is saying ' I got problem man' , so I look over and he is hopping up and down trying to work the zipper on his pants. Then he starts swinging his arms and pounding his hands against his legs. His hands are totally numb and he is swinging in the breeeze unable to zipper himself. This goes on for literally 15 minutes! I shut off the Bonny and refuse to look at him. Again he says " I got a real problemo man." "Yeah, I say YOU got a problemo. YOU. Look man" I say, " I'm not zipping you up, not even if it means you gotta ride across the Vermont border with your junk swinging in the wind, I don't care. Friendship ends there. No fucking way I'm going to zip you up!"

Jorge is now hopping and bending over and cursing a blue streak trying to get his zipper up. There is a small crowd of locals at the country store across the street staring.We're totally fucked, can't leave, stuck there like being broke down.. its a problem but I'm laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes, the locals are lookig uneasy and Jorge is shit out of luck so finally I hand him my leatherman tool. After many attempts he is barely able to get the pliers onto his zipper tab and very carefully, with much hopping and gyrating and twisting works the zipper back up half way or so. Good enough to ride and as we tore through the last 30 miles to Bennington I was laughing in my helmet and thinking "What piece of shit that Vegas is."

 

[msc66]

Back in the early 80s when I lived out side of Pittsburgh things were tough all over. The collapse of the steel industry hit the area hard and jobs were hard to come by. I had a 45 minute drive into the city just to work at a service station which meant I rode my Sportster almost every day.

So one day I head off to work. It was payday and I was flat broke. About half way there the Sporty sputtered and I was out of gas. I pushed it probably half a mile to a gas station. It was one of those self service places with the little booth with the guy inside. I went up and asked to use his phone and he said he didn't have one even though I could see it as we spoke. I told him I 'm looking right at it and he said "you're not using it. Please get off the property".

I was very aggravated now and as I walked back to my bike I gave the gas pump a punch. Now glass booth guy comes over the PA and says he's calling the cops. I snapped. I ran back and began punching and kicking his little booth while cussing him out. Then I went and sat on my bike and waited on the cops who came very quickly.

He went straight to glass booth guy who I could hear bitching and hyperventilating about the punk rock kid on the motorcycle. Then the officer came to me and asked me what happened so I told him the truth to which he said "I'm not going to take you in but you have to move on." How? I asked and he said "how did you get it here?" "I pushed it." "Well, guess you'll just have to push it some more." Great.

So I pushed it another mile or so to the next gas station and sat on the seat to catch my breath. Just then the same officer pulls in. Now what? He blips his siren and motions for me to come over. I walk over to the patrol car and he gets out, hands me two bucks and says "watch your temper." Then gets in and drives away.

 

[grumpy_1944]

Summer of 1998 I was riding my 91 VFR-750-F up the Pacific Coast highway (highway 1, Ca) north of Cambria, Ca. Usually, traffic is horrible and the weather is cold and foggy. Not this day. Only passed one car and the weather was clear and I was riding in a T-shirt. The car was moving at a pretty good clip. I felt that things were somewhat surreal that day

There is a road (Nacemento-fergusen) that leaves Hwy 1 and cuts through the mountains to Highway 101 and 198 which would take me home. About a quarter of the way up the grade, while going through a hairpin corner, I passed someone on an old BMW R 30, wearing a Barbour jacket, leather fighterpilots cap and goggles, sporting a huge handlebar mustache. He grinned at me and I heard him say "great ride, huh" as we passed in opposite directions. I stopped to look back down the grade for several minutes but never saw him again. I wonder, did I pass through a time warp or something????

 

[Clarke]

A couple of long distance Honda rides

A Fraternity Brother of mine was from El Salvador. A couple of his friends from Costo Rica. During college they all bought new Honda side mounted V twins 550s? i think 1980 models (or there about). They took an extended semester break and drove to their home countries and back from northern Missouri! We all thought they were crazy at the time.

Story two. A co-worker of mine bought a new Honda cb 175cc when he graduated High School in 1971. He took off From St. Louis MO to Miami FL for a little summer fun. Once he made it to FL he got a VERY wild hair, and decided to drive to Mexico via southern US. Anyway, to make it short he rode all the way to Mexico City and back to Missouri. Living on a small budget, and sleeping wherever he could park the bike. His stories from the trip are hilarious to say the least. When he gets back home he figures the 175 is too small for his needs, Soooo he buys a brand new cb 750. He puts a couple of hundred miles on the bike, parks it in his shed, AND there it sits to this day.

 

[FoothillRyder]

I have a few billion as well, bein' as how I've been riding since the 1960's...

I was on my cafe'd CB550-4, bikini fairing, clubman's, nice pipe, I raced the bike on many occasions so it was nicely setup. But this day (late evening actually) I was returning from a Porsche club meeting at Riverside (CA) raceway where a friend had been playing. It was late, I was in a hurry to get home, and I was doing a buck twenty (or so) when I realized I'd just blown through a merge of two major freeways where there was ALWAYS an LEO watching.

A glance in the mirrors told me that there had indeed been an officer there, and now he was in hot pursuit. Without touching the binders I backed 'er down, arriving at the posted limit just as he got within 'tracking' distance. As expected, he turned on the lights, and I dutifully pulled over and parked. I knew the worst he could do was right me up for some 'estimated' speed, and was bound and determined to get off with less if I could.

Young guy, gets out of his patrol car and walks up, his eyes fixed on my rear tire, shaking his head. I went back and looked myself, wondering if there was a problem. The officer laughs, holding up his hand to refuse my license and registration. 'Don't need to see those, you were down to the limit before I caught up.' he says. 'I just can't believe you were going - uh - bloody fast and had no problem with the rain grooves back there at the merge.' Hmmm... 'Uh... well...' I stammered. He looked down again, shining his flashlight on my tire. Nothing special, a Dunlop K81 I think.

He turned off the light and clapped me on the shoulder. 'You be careful, and keep your speed down will ya?' he said, turning around and walking back to his cruiser.

Luck beats good. Every time.

 

[jhillier71]

Back in the 60's I was riding Triumphs, mainly a 62 at that time. While headed home from work, tired, headed for the local bar and noticed a car parked on the curb ahead, saw a puff of exhaust and his front wheels began to cut left I was about 15-20 feet behind the dude and figured he'd seen me and would not pull out, but he did, bingo, managed to brake heavily but still came to a stop right next to his window, which was open, he was about halfway out into the roadway with me parked within inches and alongside his drivers side window.
Totally pissed since I'd seen him look in his side mirror and rear view and figured he spotted me, but no, he decided it was clear and began to pull out causing the near accident.
I calmly, but in a huge rage at the asswipe, got off the bike, walked around it while he was apologizing madly, got up to his window, grabbed his left hand rear view mirror and twisted it off the car with my hands, threw it in the car across his chest and it bounced off his passenger door.
"If you don't fucking use it, you don't fucking need it!" and got back on the bike and rode off.
Still steaming.......I was much more vocal in those days, and a bit of an asshole when shit like that happened. I've calmed down now, and just put a few .45 rounds in his solar plexus and leave, I don't yell near as much...

fucking great

 

[jhillier71]

Cranking through some twisties in northern Ontario on a ZX-6R about 7-8 years ago my buddy was ahead of me on his brand new ZX-9R, a green monster of a bike, it could haul ass and then some. There was a hairpin left hand turn after a straightaway and I was watching him crack his wrist more than i should have, as I exclaimed aloud "man, that is one fast bike". I then watched him lock up his rear wheel as the back-end got squirrelly for a bit and said aloud again, "He isn't going to make the turn!?!?! Fuck!??!" but luckily for him, he managed to straighten out and make the turn.

Unfortunately my dumb-ass self was so absorbed on watching him I kinda forgot about the turn myself, quickly ran outta runway and luckily braked enough in a straight line to go over the shoulder, oh so gently at about 1 MPH, and thankfully stayed upright. I immediately started laughing at my own stupidity as my feet got soaking wet. I was sitting on my bike, in my leathers, in a ditch, with water coursing through my boots and the bike idling nicely like nothing even happened. Picture a Kawi in a steam bath....

My buddy doubled back to see me standing in the ditch, laughing my ass off and trying to figure out how the heck I was going to get out of there. If only we had a camera and I had another 10 seconds.....

:motorbike2:

 

[Kirkus51]

In the mid 60s my Bud and I decide to head up Coal Creek canyon 2up. As we were about to head home from a fun day, the chain breaks on my T10. No spare master, no nothing to fix the chain which was missin a few rollers too. We were right at the top of the road 8,000 feet or so.

We decided we could coast back down the canyon pretty much most of the way home. So, put it in neutral, hop on and away we go. after about a 1/2 mile we were going pretty good. After a mile we were really flying. We made it out of the canyon and hit the flats doing almost 60, we started hopping up and down and got a few more miles that way, all the time chanting go, go , go.

We made it within about five miles of home, which means we coasted over 20. I don't remember how we got home the rest of the way, I think a guy towed us with a rope or something, but that 20+ miles of coasting was pretty hairy and exhilarating at the same time.

I put over 40,000 miles on that old T10 and was kinda sad to see it go.

 

[jhillier71]

In the mid 60s my Bud and I decide to head up Coal Creek canyon 2up. As we were about to head home from a fun day, the chain breaks on my T10. No spare master, no nothing to fix the chain which was missin a few rollers too. We were right at the top of the road 8,000 feet or so.

We decided we could coast back down the canyon pretty much most of the way home. So, put it in neutral, hop on and away we go. after about a 1/2 mile we were going pretty good. After a mile we were really flying. We made it out of the canyon and hit the flats doing almost 60, we started hopping up and down and got a few more miles that way, all the time chanting go, go , go.

We made it within about five miles of home, which means we coasted over 20. I don't remember how we got home the rest of the way, I think a guy towed us with a rope or something, but that 20+ miles of coasting was pretty hairy and exhilarating at the same time.

I put over 40,000 miles on that old T10 and was kinda sad to see it go.

Kirkus - great story and no offense but the first thing that came to mind was the Carey movie....