Part one:
http://www.kiwibiker.co.nz/forums/sh...ad.php?t=39808
Part 2:
http://www.kiwibiker.co.nz/forums/sh...ad.php?t=39809
Ok, as most of you that follow my ramblings will know, I
have a little time on my hands right now, so thought I would
churn out part three of my experiences with motorcycling.
My current situtation also means I have now have some fresh
material to add to my saga for another time.
My aim in producing these series is to help teach and
educate those that are new to this activity. There are
lessons to be learned but I am not going to spell those
out in black and white. You will realise those lessons as
you read the everyday activities of an exuberant, seemingly
invincible biker in his late teens. From these lessons and
experiences, you will know for yourself what not to do.
I will recant some more lighter moments that could have been
real dark moments and hope that along with these lessons you
will get the odd laugh too. After all, we need to laugh at
ourselves and others from time to time as this helps the
learning process and etches lessons a little more on the mind.
Before my last serious accident on my T250 Suzuki, I was
invited to several parties. It soon becomes evident that
sucking large quantities of brown milk and riding a motorbike,
is a rather volatile mix fraught with danger. But I'm 18
remember, seemingly bullet proof and stupid nonetheless.
Around 1.00 am, I pull up to the lights in Papakura with
a pot full of fermented hops. I stop for the red light
and promptly fall off the bike. It takes a few minutes to
pick it up again and all appears well once you are actually
moving. Giggle juice has a curious effect on one's brain.
It appears to heighten your senses, speed things up, make
you feel like you are riding like Rossi, but in effect, you
are an accident waiting to happen and when you've sucked a
little too much, you do some stupid things. Your brain
synapses are trying to work through what may as well be treacle.
The road seems very narrow and lumpy as I speed down Willis
Road and the next second there is a lot of yelling, white
eyes and teeth flashing and a large group of my darker
skinned bothers leaping out of my way screaming obscenities
and trying to kick me off my bike. When on the way home
from a party, it is actually very prudent to ride on the
road, NOT the footpath!!!
A few weeks later, I turn up at one of my brothers mates
parties. They are quite a wild bunch. I'm juiced, an
occurrence which appears to be quite regular with those of
my age on Saturday nights and back in my day. I've heard
not much has changed except the power of our bikes.
I was never too hot at wheelies when I was young. A
certain amount of self preservation actually did kick in
from time to time and especially when trying to point the
headlight at the sun. Most of my brothers mates had British
Bikes and me turning up on a "little" Jappa, was not quite
Kudos.
"Show us what you can do on your little shit box."
When you're plonked, ready to show off and peer group pressure
is at play, of course you oblige, why wouldn't you?
You stumble out to the front yard where your bike is parked and
thrust the key into the ignition. Someone follows behind and
thoughtfully pops your helmet on your head loose and helps you
to get your gloves on. You totally forgot you might actually
need them. It's dark, being nearly midnight.
You kick the bike over and rev the engine. Drop the clutch and
promptly wheelie across the road without looking, to the cheers
of all, present. Someone in a car toots as they brake while
you shoot across the road on one wheel. They have their drinks
and are out to watch the show. Up the curb, miss the power
pole, do zig zags through the bushes and power poles, tossing
dirt in all directions as you rear tyre madly spins trying to
get a grip. Normally you would have been on the ground long ago,
but tonight, all's going well and you're the man.
Back onto Kelvin Road and scream round the corner towards
Clevedon Road. The bikes pinned, you nearly don't stop in time
but you do. A U turn and back towards the party. You scream past
with the bike fully pinned again, realise you are quickly running out
of room, slam on the brakes hard, slide across Settlement road
between several moving cars, still to fast. Up the curb and into
gravel right in front of the Church. You end up laying her down
in the gravel so you don't hit the brick wall.
You pick up the bike and race back towards the party, pull up
the driveway, kick out the side stand, grab the offered beer
and head back inside. Guys are slapping you on the back but
I notice some of my brothers mates don't look too happy.
I wonder why?
I ride my bike back home around the corner in Willis Road, turn in
and have a good sleep. Late next morning I have to go into town
so are heading up Willis road fully pinned, as I usually do.
I throttle off and change down as I head towards the roundabout
at 140kmh. The beer my brothers mates put into my petrol tank
has finally worked it's way into the carbs. It was meant to have
happened the night before. Right now the throttle slides in the
carbs are totally jammed, this two stroke is on full song and
drum brakes aren't much chop in this situation.
You are panicking and never think to pull in the clutch and
turn off the ignition. You have a fist full of brakes
swerve to miss a car and scream through the roundabout at
some crazy speed. You remember it might be a good time to
turn off the ignition before going airborne over the railway bridge.
It takes a long time to push your bike home. Even longer to drain the
tank, strip the carbs and flush the lines and tank of the gooey mess
the beer left behind. You reflect on why your brothers mates thought
you might not want to live another day.
Well before my accident with my brother on the back, my younger
sister wanted to go on a ride with me. I ride a lot more carefully
with a pillion but as a young guy, you gotta impress the girls even
your own sister. The run out to Maraetai was cool. We drop down
to Omana where the little playground is. At the North end of Omana.
the corner goes left over a culvert by the big Pohutakawa tree.
There were a lot of young people at Omana that day so a little wheelie
across the straight bit is in order. That goes down a treat and
several groups of people are now cheering. Man, what that does for
ego aye??
I gun the bike into the left hander, forgetting the raised lump
where the pipe goes under the road. Ahead, there are two little
old ladies sitting on the beach beyond the rocks, eating scones
and sucking English tea. I confess that I just love a decent
date scone but I think the little old ladies weren't too keen on
sharing that day for some reason.
We go airborne, reasonably high I might add and things started
to look somewhat grim. You know the size of those boulders they
use as sea break there, don't you? Well, thankfully we didn't
get a closeup look of those but I've never seen two old ladies move
so fast in all my life. It was never my intention to invite myself
to tea and scones but unfortunately, I really think they got that
impression.
My front wheel buried itself in the sand and the bike went sideways
tossing me and my sister into what seemed like a rather long, slow
highside. We rolled to a stop nearly on the tea and scone rug.
Embarrasement spurs you on to great heights. A number of people
were running from Omana beach to see what happened after that idiot
on the bike disappeared. I checked my sister, she was ok, thankfully.
I apologised to the little old ladies and made it quite clear they were
now safe to continue eating there scones and suck their tea.
Picked up the bike and kicked it over, got my sister on the back
and high tailed it out of there rather quickly.
I don't actually remember my sister riding on the back of my bike
again after that incident.
Part 4:
http://www.kiwibiker.co.nz/forums/sh...ad.php?t=40775
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