Characters and general funny bike related stories - true stuff only please!

[Hedgetrimmer]

Been looking at all us old gits reminiscing about all the bikes we owned in the past, and I got to thinking about some of the characters I've known through biking. Motorcycles do seem to attract a, er, colourful brand of person!


One that most sticks in my memory was a cat who I shall just call Steve, who I used to knock about with for many years. A few things I remember from back then:


I first knew Steve through my brother. We were all into heavy rock music, so that’s what brought us together. We all used to get the bus to Manor Park on a Saturday night for the rock disco at the Ruskin Arms, the place Iron Maiden started out, although I never saw them there. Steve was ahead of me in getting on two wheels - he had a CB125 twin that he thrashed mercilessly everywhere…well, we all thrashed our learner bikes mercilessly didn’t we?

I wound up with a CB100N, and started going places with him. His antics at that time were a bit more, er, interesting than mine. He’d do things like seeing how long he had the bottle to ride with his eyes closed. When he finally crashed from doing this, his eyes were closed cos he’d actually fallen asleep after a night shift at the petrol station he worked at then - ploughed straight across a roundabout, which I guess probably woke him up.

Steve was a big guy, about 6’ 4’’ and heavy with it. He liked his junk food and was the only guy I ever knew that could eat a 16oz Blowout from Jake’s burger bar, then he’d nip across the road to Maccy D’s and chase it down with a couple of cherry pies.

He got a Suzuki GS550 after he passed his test, he still dwarfed it though. I remember one night heading back from the pub, I was pillion on his GS and he loved to just go round and round a roundabout with the pegs dragging and great showers of sparks flying out behind.

Then he graduated to a GPz1100, and at the same time I got myself a Kwak 750 Turbo. These two bikes were well matched and we hacked about everywhere together. We both liked to ride fast, but he was a nutter. He’d try to bait cop cars into chasing him, other times he’d wheelspin that thing along the pavement outside people’s houses. One time, he wanted to hear what it would sound like if he took the complete exhaust system off, and the flames were shooting out of the block about a foot, but he quit that when he realised it was burning all the paint off the frame front tubes.

One time we both went to this party, fancy dress. I just put my dad’s old brown dust-coat on with string tied around the waist, and an empty bottle wrapped in brown paper and called myself a tramp. Through the night, I was pouring drinks into this bottle and just taking swigs from it now and then. Steve didn’t see me pouring the drinks in there though, just me getting them at the bar and every time I ordered he thought I was downing it right there. Unbeknownst to me, he was trying to match me drink for drink and knocking them straight back one for one - whisky I think it was we were ordering. Man, was he a state by the end of the night. I think I was too for all that. We couldn’t get a lift back to his place (I lived miles away), and we were so trashed they locked us in the bare, freezing cold bike club hut over night, left us a message saying they’d come let us out in the morning. I don’t remember being dumped in there, but we woke early, couldn’t get out, waited hours for someone to show up with the keys. I couldn’t even put a bottle of whisky under my nose after that night, never have since.

He was quite into the occult, I think he really believed in all that shit. Him and another mate went out to this old desanctified church out in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night. They saw weird lights and heard all this chanting inside as they crept up on the place. Then they heard footsteps approaching the door they were listening outside of and the pair of them turned and hightailed it from there. He kept telling everyone about it in awestruck tones after as if they’d stumbled upon the very lair of Satan himself. I think even his folks used to wind him up about that stuff.

Anyone else got stories of people they met through bikes, funny, interesting? Go on, I've got time to read em.

[celticdog]

GREAT story Hedgetrimmer! 

I couldn’t even put a bottle of whisky under my nose after that night, never have since.[/size][/font]
[/size][/font]

I've had a bad experience with whisky too fella, I bet many of you have 

[ogri48]

Excellent read mate 

[robbo]

Ditto....excellent read.

[Hedgetrimmer]

There was a question at the end 

[joebloggs]

This one's about me really and the lad it effected is still telling the tale to this day

I was a MAG member many moons ago and we'd gone to Mallory park for the weekend for their first ever track day. I was running short of cash so needed to nip back to Leicester to the bank. I had an old ZX10 at the time and a friend, who was in a bit of a state, asked if he could come on the back. Mick was a pretty steady rider, at the time he rode an old BMW flat twin and I doubt it ever went faster than the national limit.

I said I'd go steady, well that was the plan, except it was a beautiful day and I'd just had an argument with my ex Mrs. We set off sedately enough, plodding along until we got onto the A47, and even then it wasn't to bad, for awhile, I came up behind a couple of cars, knocked it down a few cogs and passed them, a few more cars in the distance approaching a bend, I can do them before they turn it and sure enough we passed them too, through the corner at some stupid speed, a few more cars in the distance, well would be rude not to overtake them before we have to slow down for the 30mph speed limits in town.

We got to the bank and I asked Mick if he was OK, he sort of grunted yes so I though no more of it.

The ride back was a blur of dangerous overtakes and high speed madness, I though my passenger was having fun until we got back to the camp site

Mick stepped off, looked at the group, explained how bad the trip into Leceister had been then recalled the return journey. His words "we came across this bunch of sports bikes, and I though, oh foc, he's going to race them, but we didn't race them, Mel left them for dead. That was fucking horrendous"

Thing was he was after some money for the fair, but said after he didn't see the point of going on a ride after that experience

[tommyardin]

Love your story Joe  .


I went on the back of a mate Taffy, it was years ago now, anyway he had a Norton Dominator 99 600 Twin and he overtook a articulated low-loader (the sort that was used for tree trunk haulage) on a left hand bend, but he cut it so tight I thought we aren't going make this, he was absolutely blind to what was coming, I shut my eyes and though this is it, I pinched myself up and I felt something like being punched really hard in the left shoulder, anyway we made it even with the stream of about 7 or 8 cars bearing down on us. Taff stopped about a mile up the road it shook him up as much as it did me.


I had the old style Barber jacket on and the shoulder was ripped out of it and I had the most enormous purple, blue, black and yellow bruise i have ever seen, I was off work for about 4 weeks. The funny thing was that the lorry went passed us really slowly as we were stopped and the driver bellowed out at the top of his voice 'YOU C--T' 




This little story did not involve me in any way. but thinking about Taff and the tree lorry made me think of it.


I was working on a building site in Alton Hampshire a few years ago and there was the most Fug Ugly hod carrier you could ever imagine, he looked as mean as is possible to look, His name was Kendo, well that is what everyone called him after a wrestler of many years ago Kendo Nagasaki.


This poor sod was so badly mulched up and scared and had really dark brown/black scabs all over his boat race.
It turns out that he had a high speed off on a Tiger110 650cc twin Triumph and ended up in the fork of a large elm tree, apparently he was some 20 or so yards off the road. They think he may of been in the tree for an hour or more before being found. anyway he contracted a disease in his face that is linked to Dutch Elm Disease.


I know it sounds like BS but that's the story.


He was as strong as an Ox and the best Hoddy I have ever seen, carried almost twice as many bricks in a day as your usual Hod carrier, he ran up the ladder not holding the hod handle and slid back down just holding the side rails of the ladder, he was like a machine and hardly said a word all day long.


I had no reason to be but I was shit scared of him, he was an awsum sight about 17 stones and built like a brick shit house, probably 6' 3" tall, not the sort to argue with, but with saying that I never saw him lose it, most blokes do on the sites at some point or other, I know I did a few times but when your only 10.5 stones (Wish I still was) nobody gives a toss. [/size]

[Hedgetrimmer]

I've hated going pillion on bikes since I got my license, and with good reason, as all my mates were nutters on bikes; it was like it was a competition to scare your pillion witless or something. I knew one girl who loved all that, used to always want to have a go on the back (ooh er indeed!  ). She was pretty hot actually, tall and leggy, a real rock chick. She insisted on going on the back of my Kwak Turbo one night - that thing was easy to pull wheelies on when you were two up. It just sailed up serenely on power. I forgot to check if there was a damp patch on the pillion seat after that, but she loved it.


I took Steve, from the above story, on the back of my RG500 one time, we had to get to somewhere or other, just a short ride. They were only small and light, those RGs, but I'm 6' 2'' - it was ok though with just me on it, but when he got on the back, that thing just bottomed out on the rear shock, bang! Worse still, his knees were up around my ears, I was just clamped into place, couldn't move. The bike was virtually on the back wheel before we even pulled away. Well, I managed to get us where we were going, but that was the last time I tried taking a pillion on the RG.


Another time my brother let me have a go on his RD350LC. He'd had that bike bored out to whatever it was you could take them out to, and I was itching to have a thrash of it. He said ok, but I had to take him pillion, home from some place we'd gone to, I wasn't on my own bike that day for whatever reason. He warned me to be careful, that the throttle stuck occasionally, he hadn't got around to sorting it... Well, I just gave it loads of welly off the lights, and the front wheel came up - you'd expect it to on those bikes, even in standard trim - but sure enough, the throttle stuck open; the front came up so fast, we both slipped back on the seat and I couldn't grab the clutch. My brother got dragged along on his arse for a few yards before we toppled over. We had to leave the bike there till the morning, but he couldn't sit down in the taxi that got us home that night 


As for getting on the back when Steve was the pilot - forget it! I may have been stupid, but even I was never that stupid 

[joebloggs]

Lmao


I was lent a GS750 for a year when a friend was banned for drink driving
When he came to collect it  it wouldn't start, I'd told him to bring some fuel as the tank was nearly empty and the old fuel stagnant
Anyway it wouldn't start so I suggested towing it behind his friends feista, as you do.....
We tied the rope to the tow hitch on the car and the other end around the bikes headstock and off we went. About a mile later still nothing, I suggested turning the tap to reserve, he was adamant there was enough fuel so I waited till we got going before switching it over, it fired instantly, at this point I made an important discovery, the clutch had stuck on........ so here I was, tied to the back of a slow moving car on a 750 in second gear with the choke full on, wasn't going to end well, then the engine cut, big sigh of relief, until the rope caught, focin bike took off like a scalded cat, my mates face was quite a picture as I pulled along side him, then I ran out of rope.....
Chris jumped out to see if I was ok, I stood there roaring with laughter which puzzled him, but the jolt had freed the clutch and that tickled me

[joebloggs]

Another lesson, well three discoveries in about a second tbh, was that when a friend tells you to watch the front brake he may have a point, second was the fact that MZ front tyres are made of Teflon followed quickly by the laws of physics that prevent you from running at 30mph out side the chip shop when you've just learned about the first two points.........

[ogri48]

When I was 13, a very fortunate mate had his dad buy him a brand new tl125 Honda trials bike ( £329 a bloody fortune at the time) within a year his mum ( his mum and dad were divorced and lived apart) moved from there house just outside of warboys in Cambridgeshire, to a place called doddington, near March. We knew there was a track, formerly a railway line, that ran from the back of the fields behind his old house for the ten miles or so to the house his mum had just bought, so instead of putting the Honda in the removal truck we set of two up to get the bike there. It was horrendous in truth, two teenagers on a single seat bike riding along a track that was all granite scalpings with a peak in the middle..we were all over the place lol. Anyway, after lots of falls, scraped knees, nettle stings etc we got to within a mile of the house and we came to the river, which still had the railway bridge across it, but the rails and sleepers, same as the track, were long gone. All that was left was four timber lanes, about ten inches wide, from one side to another. We stopped, walked them to make sure they were all ok..it was a long dropp to the river and about forty foot across, so even walking it was a bit"oooooyahhh" . There was no way we was going back, not after what we had suffered, so one of us had to ride it. We made lots of practice feet up rides..it was fairly easy with solid ground either side of our marked up practice track, just looked a different matter altogether up in the air.  We sat down and discussed the best ways etc, both putting off the inevitable until after 15 minute I decided to go for it. I fired up the bike, did two more practice runs, then headed across the outer left hand side one, the thinking being if I fell I'd direct myself that way so I wouldn't knock myself out on one of the other tracks going across. And what do you know, it was easy, feet up, second gear, few revs ...simples. Halfway across, the bike coughed, then died..I instantly realised what had happened. When we had had our little sit down Clarkie had turned the petrol off ( younger readers, ask your dad :-)). I hadn't turned it back on. There had been enough in the carb for my practice runs and the first twenty feet, but now there was bugger all. Al I could do was pull the clutch in sharpish and Coast, useing every swear word I knew and balancing I had learned from trials biking to will myself across. I stopped within the last few feet, it would go no further, and tumbled over to the left. Mercifully I had cleared the water and landed on the bank, so more scrapes and stings but that was it. That was 45 years ago in 1973, and I still remember the moment it coughed and died as clear as if it was yesterday :-)

[Hedgetrimmer]

Some of you guys were more daredevil than me - I'm looking at you, Joe and Ogri - but then, that's what we had Steve for, he'd try anything once 

[slappy]

Another lesson, well three discoveries in about a second tbh, was that when a friend tells you to watch the front brake he may have a point, ......

Off topic a bit but that reminds me of the worst accident I ever had. When I was a lot younger a few of us used to share a lockup where we kept our bikes and worked on them. I had a Suzuki  GT380 which I was halfway through servicing and it needed new plugs, rather than put old ones back in just to take them out out again I borrowed another lads Honda CD175, as I rode off I heard him shout something about front brake but just kept going until I had to brake for traffic at the lights, pulled front brake and lever just hiit the throttle grip, it had no cable attached! Panic mode clicked in and I went to the left of the stationery car in front with the back wheel locked solid , for a split second I thought  I had got away with it but there was a small traffic island in the way with one of those old concrete bollards on which I hit with my left leg and bike and me went our separate ways. Left leg broken in two places, broken big toe, three broken ribs , fractured  wrist and enough bruises to last me a lifetime. That shitty Honda had bent handlebars and a few scrapes only and Rob , the lad who owned it put some on from the pile of bits lying around  in the lockup and kept it for another year. Never borrowed anther bike since.

[joebloggs]

One thing I learned about biking character's was the bull some of the so called local legends would talk. Stupid top speeds of crap old bikes etc, funy how all of a sudden their bikes were a good 20mph slower once you'd passed your test.
we did have one lad who had brain damage from hitting a car and he came out with some cracking stories. Wheelieing his bike about 20 miles home cos he had a puncture etc, couldn't help but laugh along with him

[joebloggs]

DIY engine tuning....
my sisters ex and I decided we were going to have a go at the bmf moped race. We new the theory re two stroke tuning, widen the ports to get fuel in exhaust out so when we picked up this old ar50 we new we could make it quicker, and we did. While I was at work,Gavin hit the ports with a grinder, well you could have put your fist in the slightly modified holes, who needs Stan Stevens.... We popped the barrel back on and kicked it over.... Nothing, well we had fuel and a spark so it must need a push, I think we hit 10-15mph before it fired, and we got it up to about 45 so we were happy with the top speed, only problem was it didn't have enough torque to pull away, hmm maybe there's more to this tuning than meets the eye

[tommyardin]

Great stories Lads 

[crickleymal]

A mate of mine called Frank started out on a C70, his mate (dunno his name call him Steve) had a H100 I think. Anyway they used to quite often go for rides round Wiltshire. One day they'd stopped for a fag and Frank said, "Hey, we've just passed Longleat. I've always fancied going round the safari park. What do you say?"
Steve took a long drag on his ciggy, looked hard at the two small bikes and then back at Frank. "Are you fucking mad!"

[taylor]

my mate Malcom white got banned so he took the bike apart, a rd 350 lc,  problem  he took it apart down stairs and rebuilt it upstairs,    the ban finished after a year and he tried to get it down the circular  staircase,  it had none of it striped it down again.   DICK.

[joebloggs]

my mate Malcom white got banned so he took the bike apart, a rd 350 lc,  problem  he took it apart down stairs and rebuilt it upstairs,    the ban finished after a year and he tried to get it down the circular  staircase,  it had none of it striped
lol class
it down again.   DICK.

[joebloggs]

my mate Malcom white got banned so he took the bike apart, a rd 350 lc,  problem  he took it apart down stairs and rebuilt it upstairs,    the ban finished after a year and he tried to get it down the circular  staircase,  it had none of it striped it down again.   DICK.

Class lol

[robbo]

my mate Malcom white got banned so he took the bike apart, a rd 350 lc,  problem  he took it apart down stairs and rebuilt it upstairs,    the ban finished after a year and he tried to get it down the circular  staircase,  it had none of it striped it down again.   DICK.

A similar event happened to my mate George in the mid 60's.His bedroom was on the top floor of a large Victorian end of terraced house. Having discovered the term"customising" in a US bike mag, he set about "doing up" a BSA 250 SS80 in his bedroom.The bike was taken apart in the garage we rented, and the parts slowly migrated to his bedroom which was far warmer  than the garage.He almost killed his dad,who suffered from cronic asthma, with the cellulose fumes whilst spraying the tank, and hand painting the frame with brushing cellulose.When complete it was parked at the end of his bed,dark green tank,chromed oil tank and toolbox cover.It looked the bizz.It just needed oil and petrol and a battery, jobs to be done in our garage at the bottom of the hill from his house, so all downhill from now.All ok getting it down the short flight of stairs to the first landing where it straight away dawned on us that with the best will in the world it would never get lined up for the next flight of stairs.This was eventually achieved but only after a return to the bedroom to remove the front wheel,forks and mudguard.Happy days though.

[joebloggs]

Not biking related but I was best man for a friend who had upper class parents, before the stag party his mum made me promise I wouldn't land him in jail..............

Talk about stereotyping

Anyway what she should have said was keep him away from the hookers lol