IM UK with p1ss poor prep = crap time, hip dysfunction that I can’t sort out…not to mention spending £k’s of shite I really didn’t need 😳 🙄 😕 = ++ stupid

In the early 1970’s I worked near Tadcaster & use to go to a pub called the wild man on the A64, back then pubs called last orders on a Sunday at 10.30pm (this after opening at 7pm)!! anyway on the sunday in question the barman who lived in York said we were not able to stop late because he needed to get home by 11pm & only having his dads pushbike was not for letting me & my 2 mates have an extra half pint of john smiths.
However to counter his worries we said if he did serve us we would ensure his fast & safe arrival home by towing him with one of our Motorbikes (A honda 500/4 & a CB175)drinks were duly served & after a washing line, taken from the rear of the pub was tied securly to the headstock of the pushbike & one mate holding onto the other end whilst sat backwards on the Honda4 & me following on behind on the 175 off up the A64 we procceded.
All was going quiet well till we got to a speed of around 55mph when the push bike developed quiet a pronounced speed induced wobble that got progresivly worse to the degree that the pedals on the push bike were hitting the tarmac on each side as it wobbled off up the road!!
The lad on the pushbike was by know screaming at my mate holding the washing line to let go, which he eventually did & the ensuing slide down the road was fantastic with bits of pushbike grinding away in one of the best pyro displays I have ever witnessed.
however this was topped by both pushbike & rider hitting the kerb in the central reservation, never has a bike with full mud guards,fully enclosed chain guard,dynamo lights & brooks full sprung saddle complete with toolroll flown so gracfully so high so far & yet come down so hard as to smash into so many bits.(we put it into 3 cardboard boxes to take it back to the barmans dad).
When all the dust had settled & we realised that hospital was the best place for the bike rider due to a rather large hole ground into his hip bone.
so with him now on the back of the Honda4 & the mate who reluctantly let go of the washing line now my pillion off to york general hospital we went, in the A&E dept the barman was seen by the matron in charge (remember this is the 70’s)”what’s happened” she ask’s the barman, “come off my pushbike” he replies lifting his jacket to show massive hole in his side.
“my God” cries the Matron “what can you have been doing to get an injury like that from coming off your bike”? “about 60 MPH” comes the reply
🙂

Rangeroy, brilliant bed-time reading 🙂 LMAO

Chased a mate around Cadwell park once.
He was on a R1 race bike in full race spec with slicks, race bodywork & rearsets. He was lapping in a reasonable respectable 1:47 & I was on a FazerThou with new rearsets & freshly fitted engine protectors.

Motorcyclists may see the problem coming: I tipped in to Barn corner @ redmist speed, the engine protector found the track surface before my toe did (due to the new rearsets). Bike exited the circuit stage left, I slid down the track on my arse complaining to myself of the carelessness of the pilot.

So far, so good… Unfortunately @ barn corner there is about 6ft of grass run off then a concrete wall protected by stacked tyres. The stacked tyres which fired the pilotless fazer thou back on to the tarmac which hit me in the head as it passed. Thus producing the end of my motorcyling career (and very nearly my life) by way of fractured C5, T4 & several other more minor bones.

The lesson: when crashing keep the Potential Energy to a manageable level 😉

some really great posts, if my own experience is to go by, it’s when you let your guard down…

out mucking about with friends at the local jump spot, finished up and rode to the shops, couple of beers and sprint home (i was a lot younger and fitter)

all i can remember is a flash and a lot of pain – turned out i had clipped a bollard with my bar, was going ‘quite fast’ and face planted sans helmet

actually walked away,

couldn’t see mind cos of the swelling, also had broken skull, eye socket and nose. to this day glasses don’t sit right on my face as it’s skew wiff

had a few injuries since, including a couple of ribs, but never been so stupid as to ride a bit pissed without a helmet…

…until last year, went out for a long ride – had one of those over the bars, oh shit moments, and walked away fine – then went out for a ‘few beers’ that evening. run out of booze at mine, so me and a mate rode back to his, on the way back… doesn’t matter how it happened… rode into a brick wall.

Not to bad, broken shoulder and a shot of morphine before they’d move me (despite i’d actually taked my t-shirt off to have a look!)

most stupid cycling incident
years ago, as a lad, a bike computer was something you bolted to the end of the axle, it hung down on a metal fitting strip had had a sort of jockeywheel on the inside and this was turned by a ‘metal tag’ that you clamped on one spoke, which every wheel rotation hit a ‘peak’ on the jockey wheel thing and drove it round. Anyway, boy, new toy, spannering, offski, belting along, mileometer not working, the tab wasn’t hitting the clicker, so in my frustration I tried bending the fitting strip in a bit by kicking it – sadly the mileometer went into the spokes ………….

a close cycling second, in my day fireworks were basic, bangers, catherine wheels, roman candles, vesuvius flares and small weeeoosh rockets. So, all out on bikes, a mate (with a rich dad – a GEARED racing bike – wow) and some hefty fireworks, anyway in the interests of science we strapped the large rockets to Grahams frame and off to the top of the hill, speed record attempt on. Off he went, sadly Grahams dad was the first person on the island to have bought the now rather common exploding rockets, hospital job.

Must have been 10 or 11. Cycling round my estate on a warm summers night. I’m riding no handed at a fair pace when my front wheel hit a stone or a bump or something. The handlebars twisted and then my knee hit them which sent me and the bike into a catastrophic crash. I remember flying through the air with the bike, landing heavily with the bike on top of me and then skidding along the road forever. Someone came out from their house and helped me. Took me in and seen to the multiple cuts and grazes then phoned my parents to come and get me.

1. We used to use our bar ends as rocket launches and ride around the local park firing them at each other……

2. Pierce a conker with a meat skewer….And my hand….

3. Use a bowling ball as a football down the alley…..Broken ankle….

4. Let go of a rope swing at 30ft….Internal bleeding and concusion….

5. “One” last go at a no hander over a double-forgot to put hands back on….Chainrings in back of head-more stritches…

List goes on….

rode around the island on irvine boating lake when it was frozen.
its about 5 foot deep and i cant swim.
also, no spd’s, so i was wearing ice skates instead.
it didnt seem stupid at the time, and i was ok too, didnt go through the ice.

Without a doubt, it was learning skateboarding in my mid 30’s.
I was getting pretty good. Could manual a bit and do small drop-ins.
We’d gone to a big indoor skatepark in Liverpool and I reckoned I could do this 4 foot high drop in. And I did, rolled down the vert no problems, onto the flat, small drop onto the concrete, did that, wobbled, stepped off the front of the board, leg sideways, SNAP!!!

A lad said he heard my leg crack. Obviously, since I’m a bloke I assumed it was just a bit of a sprain and some beer would make it better. I drove home using an umbrella to press the cltch pedal and set about drinking beer to make it right. Spent the night sweating in agony. Took my son to football the next day using the same method. Watched him play football for three hours. When I got back into the car I banged my knee against the frame and passed out with the pain. When I came round my wife suggested we go to the hospital. Pfft!

She eventually convinced me and we nipped round there, just to see. I passed out again in the waiting room but we eventually learned I’d broken my knee. 3 months in plaster.

After that, I’d say getting a job in the public sector was a fairly stupid idea. I shudder every time I think about it.