Back in the dark ages when dinosaurs ruled the world......................actually not that far back but nearly in the early 80s
One Saturday morning a mate of mine called Sid thought he would change the brake pads on his bike, think it was a GS750 but could have been one any number of ratty bikes Sid always ended up with, as there was a lot of noise and not much stopping when he applied his front brakes, turns out he was down to all the backing plates on both discs, local stealer didn't have any in stock or Sid being Sid couldn't afford them (he was the son of the local Rag-n-Bone man). So decides to leave them out and continue to ride around only using his back brake until he can afford to get the pads.
All was ok until that afternoon as a group of about 7 of us(including Sid)[/size] [/size]were returning from Southend on the A13 and reached a set of lights in Benfleet at a place called Tarpots, we all rolled up to the lights beside a couple of other bikers we didn't know and the usual revving of engines and banter ensued which, as was the custom at the time, ended up with a mass drag race when the lights went green.
All was fine, as fine can be when 9 bikes all at full throttle launch from a set of lights, until approx 300yds later you reach a rather large roundabout called Saddlers Farm.
The entrance to the roundabout was/is a sharpish left turn which Sid some how arrived at before anyone else, applied his front brakes to then remember he didn't have any, picked his bike up applied the back brake and proceeded with very little retardation to go up over a traffic island (convieniently place pedestrian drop) and then right around the roundabout, it was more of a straight on that way.
The rest of use all realised what was happening and collectively held our breath got around the roundabout and stopped in a layby a little way down the A13 without any sign of Sid anywhere. One of the unknown bikers pulled up made the nutter sign and departed.
One of us went back to the roundabout and as there was no sign of Sid or that an accident had happened we left and traveled home slowly back to Grays where we went to Sid's house. He wasn't there and as all of were chickens, didn't say anything to his dad.
Later that evening we were all down the pub when Sid walked in totally unscathed to recall his version of events, turns out he ended up missing everything coming the opposite way (it was a busy Saturday afternoon) and shot off down the road to Pitsea and proceeded to ride V-SLOWLY home.
Lost touch with Sid over the years but he was always the one that things happened to, as he was always the one to have to make do and mend (often not very well), but he was always happy and funny to be around.
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