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8) this is a true story ,nothing has been changed to protect the innocent,if you contribute please make it so.as well
the year is 1975 i am a senior in high school just moved to a tiny town with a senior class of 58 students.a family friend gave me the deal of my life, so far ,when he sold his 1975 candy apple red rd350 to me for cheap on payments.i was doing some mx at the time on my xl250, won a 2nd place trophy in the novice class first race ever at the night motocross held at the local fairgrounds under dim lights.i was unstoppable,even dated the prom queen..
anyway i was shinin'up the wax job on the 350 rd and got some a that new stuff, just came out at the local napa,it protects and shines !! amer oil amerall sumthing any way it shur did ,put a shine on everthing !! i even shined up the tire sidewalls , it took quite a bit they soaked it up good ..but the look !! ! fookin genius !!!!!!
so i took er for a show off spin round town up over the tracks theres the frosty stand.ill show them ill show them !! im at the stopsign gotta turn left onto the old highway what goes in front the frosty stand .well...let me tell ya you aint never hit the ground so fast as when yer rear tar's got armaoil all over the tread and you hit 2nd gear with a fist full a clutch.... turns out i was just an average half-brained moran after all, : proved it i did,right in fronta 9 or 12 frosty likkin locals
When I was 17 I bought a Chinese quad bike the day I was heading out for a camping trip on a friends uncles farm.
Just for a bit of perspective this farm had beautiful kept fields and was on a river. There were some parts of the river where there was a decent 30ft drop off a cliff.
Other parts of the river were level with the land. So after having a blast riding around on my old XL250 my friends and I decided to get the quad out. This was a terrible designed bike. The wheelbase to short and the wheel spread to narrow. It handled like a pig! So that was a whole nother lot of fun.
After the day had died and we had finished dinner we all began to drink.
Much rum and many beers were consumed before we notice one of our friends had gone missing.
Being the bright spark I am I decided that at 1am in the morning on a foggy night the quad bike with its light would be the best way to find him. So off I went, following all of the neatly mowed tracks looking for my friend.
Being intoxicated and struggling to see through the fog I noticed a certain part of the track had quite a lot more fog. Now this processing through my run riddled brain eventually came to the conclusion it must be a cliff leading down to the river.
Sadly for me I came to this conclusion a little to late. I locked up the front and read breaks on the wet grass I slowly slid off the edge of the cliff. Not wanting to go down with the bike I swiftly leapt off the back and watched it fall.
Then another thought hit me "I only just bought that thing" so yet again, due to a rum riddled brain, I dove off the cliff after it.
Surprisingly the bike had cleared the cliff and was otherwise unharmed. Just a bit of water in it. Floating the right way up on all 4 wheels. Me on the Other hand had managed to roll down the cliff getting many cuts and bruises.
So I swam over to my quad to drag it to the edge of the river. When I looked up to the top of the cliff I saw my missing friend who had caught the whole thing and was in stiches laughing.
In the end we towed the quad up the cliff, bent the chassis and I later traded it for a few engineering jobs I needed done on bikes I had.
No photos so it probably didn't happen but I once Armour-All'd the floorboard rubbers on the Intruder after a wash and then took it around to the petrol station to fill up.
Got off the bike and promptly fell on my ass because the Armour All had transferred to the soles of my boots.
Fortunately no damage to the bike because it was already on the side stand but the bruise on my ass stayed there for weeks.
The bike got zero damage. All the damage is in the pic. The tailgate was down. The dent is where the front frame mount hit the tailgate. The bike just hung there. I didn't account for the ramp flexing. It literally bounced off the ground when it sprung back. $75 on half off July 4th at the pick and pull for a used, matching tailgate. I was lucky and Laphroaig is my favorite Scotch.
I think you're not understanding the best case scenario clause. Lemme splannit.
I once watched my friend argue with another friend of his. The other guy bet my friend $1 that he could snap his OWN neck. So if he wins, does he really win?
If you'd won, it might've been even more interesting. Skidding along and slamming the front wheel into the bed or overshooting into the glass. See, it's a no-win. You got lucky
Just takin the piss outta ya, friend.
Sorry I don't have any stunts involving motors. I could tell you about the time I escaped a mental hospital though, but it worked out so I guess it wouldn't be fun for nobody.
1977 YZ100 aftermarket tank with rubber tie down strap (bolt sticks up just south of the filler to hold the strap) Just washed and shined... You guessed it armor "all" including the damn seat... Load up my best bud flat back tire and all wind er up tap 1st and we roll out.
Just behind the high school is a dirt road that tuns to pavement... just a 100' or so after it takes a 90 left with a fence and the football field just the other side... well I got my buddy on so I need to scare the bejeeus out of him if I can.
So, we turn onto the gravel, I shift to second wring it out for all she has blip the clutch as I grab 3rd same for forth and here comes the pavement... KG is now squeezing my thighs with his legs and has a full on bear hug around my waist... OFF goes the throttle!! I grab a hand full of brakes... Nothin up front and the back is spining on the rim about every ten feet... ever had that feeling you pull the clutch and the bike feels like a slingshot just launched you?
We hit the fence at musta been 20+ MPH KG wound up in the field and My balls were spewing the wrong color fluid from that bolt on that damn aftermarket tank strap.
I am certain this is why the acorn nut was invented
Ha. I have a similar experience on a 78 YZ80 when I was 12 living in Beaver, PA. We were racing three bikes on my buddy's farm- all two-up. The trail ran down the side of the horse pasture and you could either go right at the far corner into the woods or cut a sharp left, run about 50 yards and turn into the woods and run through the creek. Then about 1/4 mile into the woods we hit service roads for water lines. It was fall and muddy as hell. We raced from the barn, down along the pasture. My bike ended up in third by the time we got to the corner, no determined route. It was more like a chase than a race. The first bike tried to go right from the inside while the second bike tried to go left to the creek. They tangled front tire to rear tire and then me in third tried to go inside to avoid the melee. Well, inside was the electric fence and the wire spun the handlebars around and my buddy on I went endover. We slid about 20 feet or so all wrapped up in wire, while the bike wound out at full throttle. Somehow, we all got out of that without anything more than a few scrapes. No helmets, no gear. Just jeans and jackets and boots.
My dad was on my DT250 and I was on my grandpa's quad as we drove down the pasture road parallel to the tree line. He looked at me and I looked at him, and it was on for the next quarter mile. As I hit the whoops in the road the quad drifted to the right, into the path of my Dad who was speedy past. The left grip of the DT's bars pinned my thumb into the throttle. As the road turned left and I was drifting right, my Dad and I shared a look that lasted 3 actual seconds and 3-minutes in slo-mo time. He jammed on his brakes and slid the bike sideways and I grabbed all brakes available as I flipped head over heals with the quad into the forest taking out 4 and 6 inch diameter tree trunks with my head and atv. The quad exploded and became a huge fire ball as I somersaulted through the forest for about 100-ft. The balaclava I was wearing was melted to my head when my Dad finally reached me and carried me back to the road. After a while we rode back to the farm, with a huge smoke trail lifting from the forest, and worried what my grandpa was going to do. Pulling up bloody, smoking, broken and blackened my grandfather didn't lift his head but just asked "you boys have fun?" He died a week later stacking 6 cords of wood by hand. It's the only memory that my Dad and I share about my grandfather, and it's the best one.
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proved it i did,right in fronta 9 or 12 frosty likkin locals 
