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I looked through the first few pages of this topic and didn't see a funny story thread related to motorcycles & biking so I thought I would start one.

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My first bike was a Honda 50 at age 15 that I traded for a 305 Superhawk the following year. I grew up in a small town in southern Ontario in the 1960s, a town with two traffic lights and its own small constabulary and the climate was mild enough to ride most of the year.

At 16 I was invited to a motorcycle club's New Years Eve party - not a "hard core" club, just a bunch of young motorcyclists who were meeting on the other side of town to ring in the New Year. The Age of Majority was then 21 and I had never had much to drink other than the odd sip but I felt I was ready to enter the adult world.

After arriving at the party on my 305, I was offered a beer, which I drank, then another one. By 11 p.m. I had had 3 beer and I wasn't feeling too good :frown: I was feeling pretty sick! Realizing this wasn't going to get better any time soon, I decided to go home so I got on the Superhawk and slowly started making my way across town.

There was only one traffic light that I had to pass through on the way home and as I approached the light I saw the town police cruiser sitting in a parking lot right on the corner.

Luck wasn't with me - the light was just turning red. I knew the police would be watching (since there was nothing else moving) and thought to myself "I have to do this PERFECTLY so they don't know I have been drinking!".

I came up to the stop line in a perfectly straight line, stopped with my front wheel right at the stop line, and was feeling pretty smug having done a perfect stop.

Then the world started to tilt to the right and DOWN I WENT! I had forgotten to put my foot down! :eek:

As nonchalantly as is humanly possible, I got up from the road, stood the bike up, and got back on. That damned light stayed red for a LONG time and I kept watching out of the corner of my eye for the police car to move .... but it didn't. The light eventually turned green and I proceeded the remaining few block to home.

A few days later I ran into one of the police officers down town. He said "Did you have a good time New Years Eve?" and broke into fits of laughter! :eek: I realize why the police cruiser didn't move after my remarkable stop - they were probably laughing too hard to drive!
 

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You are lucky to be alive. Drinking and riding isn't really a funny matter. Things could have gone worse. But then again, I was young and stupid too, and did worse.....Waking up in the morning and finding your car parked sideways in the driveway and having no clue why.....Thank god I've wised up in my old age....
 

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Discussion Starter #3
Of course drinking and driving isn't funny and as adults we know that but as kids we have all done stupid things. Alcohol does, however, figure into a lot of humorous memories.

My first bike was a Honda 50 when I was 15. My boyfriend and I had gone to a reservoir WAY out in the country and spent the day walking around (among other things) and when we came back to the bike later in the day I realized my key wasn't in my pocket - it had been lost at some point in our wanderings!

It was a LONG WALK back to civilization and I didn't want to leave my bike in such an isolated place. I thought about it for awhile and remembered the Honda 50 was magneto ignition so, on a hunch, I dismounted the ignition switch from the frame and tried the kick starter - it ran! We didn't have to walk back to town after all.
 

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Ok, I'll just shut up.
No need to shut up! Your story was pretty funny, actually. And when I said you didn't go back far enough, I meant you obviously missed some of my stories, some of which I thought were uproariously funny (I guess I was the only one, tho...)
Keep writing. There are a few of us here that check here regularly because we love to read motorcycle narratives. Sounds like you have a boatload of family history that's bike-related to share as well.We want to hear your stories! And, if you can keep a secret...there is a member here who publishes motorcycle books (and he published mine, as well as several books for Captain Crash. He read my ramblings here, and...'nuff said?) :coffeescreen:
 

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An exploded dragster engine

About 1970, I was about 20 and living in southern California. One day I
went to Irwindale to watch an all-motorcycle drag meet. One of the fastest
racers at the time was top fuel rider Leo Payne (who later also set a record at Bonneville, and was inducted into the motorcycling hall of fame). During
one of his runs, I saw something big fly off his bike as it was moving pretty fast, near the end of the quarter-mile run. Later, in the pit area, he told me that it was a cylinder & head from his Harley, and handed this piece to me so I could get a good look at it.

About 3 months later, I was at home, reading the latest issue of a motorcycle mag (possibly Cycle World or Cycle), and there was an article about that Irwindale meet. I saw a picture that showed Leo Payne beside his bike in the pit area. The bike was missing the top half of a cylinder and also the head. A young guy was holding the head in his hand. It was me!
I hadn't at the time known that I was being photographed for this article.

I was quite thrilled to see myself in the magazine, and proudly showed it to my parents. One of them remarked that I was now wearing the same shirt (one of my favorites) that I had been wearing at the races when I was unknowingly photographed.

tallguy
 

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My dad was in a wreck on his bike in 1977, broke his leg (middle of his shin)had a cast on from his hip to his toes and still rode the bike to the Dr.'s office (crutches strapped to the back of the seat) he was pulled over about 3 blocks from the Dr.'s office and the cop tried to ticket him.....the cop finally called his Sgt. out and they couldn't stop dad from riding, since he was still riding safely, didn't wobble, came to a full stop without falling over...ect. ect.

a few months later, new cast...knee to toes, was bored and a friend stopped by so they went for a short ride (on their own bikes of course), when they got back home about 20 min. later, dads cast and foot were covered with blood.....mom freaked out thinking his foot had fallen off the peg and hit the ground.....nope, he hit a bird at about 45, the blood was all the birds....he cut his cast off sitting on the porch to get all the blood off his foot and mom had to take him back to the hospital to get the cast re-done.....
 

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when I was about 30 I rode my dirt bike over to my friends house and we decided to go screw around on a foot trail trail below his house that was marked no motorcycles when we came out to a street we met a cop going the other way and we can see he is gonna turn and come after us so we take off and try to loose him, we go hide behind my friends garage and are peeking around a corner to see if he was gone when a voice behind us says good evening. Fortunately we knew him and he was decent about it and said I'm out here to keep the motorcycle kids off that trail and who do I find but you two.
 
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