Freaky biking story
#1
07-02-2009, 03:12 PM
Freaky biking story
So there's this Scot who's a regular at this bar I DJ at, and he likes to get all liquored up, and spin a good yarn. He's pushing 60, and been biking around the UK since he was around 12, and moved here maybe 10 years ago. Most his stories are pretty tame, but this one had me freaked and laughing:
He and a buddy (a couple of burly guys) are a bit tipsy, and bar-hopping on their bikes down a stretch of road in Scotland in the mid-70's. They pull up to their destination, and notice a short guy with a leather and a helmet next to a van flagging them down. They walk over, and shorty explains that he'd been at the bar all night, and was trying to leave, and his bike wouldn't start (he motions towards the bike nearby). His grilfriend broght the van so they could cart the bike home, but they're not strong enough to be able to pick the bike up and get it into the van ( no ramp or anything).
The burly men oblige, and each grab an end to lift it over the bumper. It was a small bike in the 70's and the UK, probably 150cc or so. As my buddy goes for the back, he lays his arm across the exhaust, and the top layer of his skin sticks to it from the heat, and he has to peel it off. He laughs cuz he's drunk, they pop the bike into the van, shorty offers them a few pounds for their help but they decline, and head inside.
The next day the two men are hungover, eating breakfast in a pub somewhere, and my buddy is lamenting the blisters on his arm from the exhaust incident. They're laughing about how short the little guy was, and how drunk he must have been to not be able to lift the tiny bike up, and then he freezes, looking at his arm. Then, he says:
"Hey. . .if that guy was in the bar 'all night,' like he said, why was his exaust so ****ing hot? It was like he'd just shut the thing off!"
A few more monets of pondering, and he exlaims:
"WE JUST STOLE A BIKE!!"
What most likely happened was the little guy waited for a new bike to pull in, knowing the owner of it wouldn't come out for a while, and then just quickly enlisted some help to toss it in the van and take off. I LOL'd
He and a buddy (a couple of burly guys) are a bit tipsy, and bar-hopping on their bikes down a stretch of road in Scotland in the mid-70's. They pull up to their destination, and notice a short guy with a leather and a helmet next to a van flagging them down. They walk over, and shorty explains that he'd been at the bar all night, and was trying to leave, and his bike wouldn't start (he motions towards the bike nearby). His grilfriend broght the van so they could cart the bike home, but they're not strong enough to be able to pick the bike up and get it into the van ( no ramp or anything).
The burly men oblige, and each grab an end to lift it over the bumper. It was a small bike in the 70's and the UK, probably 150cc or so. As my buddy goes for the back, he lays his arm across the exhaust, and the top layer of his skin sticks to it from the heat, and he has to peel it off. He laughs cuz he's drunk, they pop the bike into the van, shorty offers them a few pounds for their help but they decline, and head inside.
The next day the two men are hungover, eating breakfast in a pub somewhere, and my buddy is lamenting the blisters on his arm from the exhaust incident. They're laughing about how short the little guy was, and how drunk he must have been to not be able to lift the tiny bike up, and then he freezes, looking at his arm. Then, he says:
"Hey. . .if that guy was in the bar 'all night,' like he said, why was his exaust so ****ing hot? It was like he'd just shut the thing off!"
A few more monets of pondering, and he exlaims:
"WE JUST STOLE A BIKE!!"
What most likely happened was the little guy waited for a new bike to pull in, knowing the owner of it wouldn't come out for a while, and then just quickly enlisted some help to toss it in the van and take off. I LOL'd
#2
07-02-2009, 04:05 PM
Senior Member
Where'd you find that?
#3
07-02-2009, 04:11 PM
That's actually told first-person. The guy hangs out at my bar.
He has another one about how back in the day, if you got caught drinking and driving, the cop would give you a dollar, and tell you to take your car to a nearby coffee shop, and he better see your car sitting in their parking lot for the next hour while you sober up, or he's gonna come back and take you jail for the night.
He has another one about how back in the day, if you got caught drinking and driving, the cop would give you a dollar, and tell you to take your car to a nearby coffee shop, and he better see your car sitting in their parking lot for the next hour while you sober up, or he's gonna come back and take you jail for the night.
#4
07-02-2009, 06:32 PM
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#6
07-03-2009, 12:35 AM
If you like freaky stories.........................
THE NEW HELMET
I was wandering round the pawnshops a while ago – you know how it is – looking for that elusive bargain that no-one else has noticed.
After a couple of hours of browsing through all sorts of motorcycle bits and bobs I found myself in a small shop, a bit off the beaten track, a gloomy place that needed a good dose of fresh air, sunlight and a good clean. The old man behind the counter fitted the place to a T – also a bit gloomy and past his sell-by date. Seemed to have a bit of a sense of humour though, something which I was to confirm later on.
Anyway, back to my story –
On a high shelf behind the counter, mostly out of sight , I saw what looked like a helmet bag.
On enquiring of the owner he grumblingly fetched a ladder and hauled the helmet bag down, dusting it off.
On opening the bag, I found the most magnificent full face helmet, and even more amazing, the colours exactly matched my bike !
“Magic helmet, that one “ the old shopkeeper said.
“Pawned by a young fellow a year or so back, down on his luck”
“Didn’t want to part with it, but said he had no choice “ said the old man.
“Strange thing though, I don’t remember it being that colour”
I tried it on, a perfect fit, no wear or scratches, although the place was so dim I don’t think I would have seen much, anyway.
Then the haggling started, but I think both of us knew that I had to have that helmet.
After much to-ing and fro-ing, much consulting of my wallet etc, I walked out into the sunshine, helmet bag under my arm, somewhat poorer but very happy.
My old helmet had become a bit shabby over the past few years, what with the odd track day, being left in the cupboard in the rainy season and so on, so I decided that the next day’s Sunday run was when the new helmet would be worn for the first time. It would need a good clean on the outside first though or all my mates would give me stick about it. I’ve always been a bit fussy about my kit and my friends would love the chance to get one back at me for all my remarks about dirt on their bikes etc etc. The inside was spotless as though it had never been worn - silent word of thanks to the last owner for keeping it in such good nick.
It being a Saturday, I started on the helmet as soon as I got home, you know the drill – warm soapy water, soft cloth , so on.
I was in the middle of all this when the helmet seemed to slip in my hands, I grabbed for it, bent forward and just managed to catch it. As I bent forward, there was a loud crack, the front window shattered and something hit the wall behind me. Needless to say, I ended up on my face on the mat, helmet safely under control.
It turned out that some kid had borrowed his dad’s firearm, and had dropped it outside, loosing off a round, which if I hadn’t leaned forward to catch the helmet, would have hit me squarely in the head !
After much shouting and general mayhem, the culprit was apprehended, and his father agreed to replace my front window. The bullet ended up in the plasterwall, so we hung a picture over it.
After its cleaning the helmet almost seemed to glow, and I put it away, ready for the next day’s ride.
The next morning dawned bright, clear and dry – perfect bike weather , so on went the helmet and kit, and away up the road to meet my mates. The helmet fitted perfectly, no wind noise, no buffeting, almost too good to be true ! The visor had one of those strips that go darker in the sun, which also seemed to be working perfectly. I silently congratulated myself again on my purchase.
Off up the freeway, plenty of speed, no traffic, typical Sunday morning. After a bit of scratching through a few bends, and a good run, we had agreed to stop for breakfast at a nearby roadside inn.
Just as I was approaching the last bend before the breakfast stop, my visor suddenly seemed to go dark, so dark in fact that I couldn’t see what I was doing and had to stop.
As I pulled over, one of my mates went round me on the outside, and disappeared round the bend.
There followed a loud skid, a thud and an all too familiar sliding sound of metal and plastic on tarmac.
I pushed up my visor, and went on around the corner to find my mate lying in the bushes, bike badly bent, and a farmer’s wagon squarely across the road.
Fortunately my mate wasn’t too badly beaten up, so after arranging for his bike to be collected, and agreeing that the farmer would pay for his damages, we all carried on to breakfast.
“Why did you stop ? “ asked my mate,
“Could you see the wagon in the road? “
“My visor must have had a glitch, “ I said
“It went dark on me and I couldn’t see so I had to pull up.
“Lucky for you, “ He said “Must be that new helmet “
I looked at the visor, which was now clear in the dimmer light.
“I dunno” I said, “but whatever it was saved me from colliding with you and the wagon, so I guess I should be thankful.”
The rest of the day went off without further incident, and in the late afternoon I returned home, washed the bike and helmet, and put all the kit away ready for the next time. I don’t generally ride the bike to work, so on Monday morning I went outside and turned the car key only to find the battery was flat.
So out came the leather jacket, helmet and gloves again, me not in a good mood as the weather looked foul and ready to rain any minute. Fired up the bike and away. Two minutes down the road and – you guessed it – the heavens opened. Really bucketing down it was and I thought the helmet might mist up or the visor go dark, but no, no misting, which was strange as there was no noseguard. All of a sudden, I was all set to pass a truck when something said “back off ! “, and I’m not one to tempt fate, so I shut down and pulled back in, and the next second saw an old lady who had wandered into the road, and who would most definitely have ended up under the bike if I had passed the truck.
No further incidents took place that day or for the rest of the week, the car ran normally, and all was as it should be. I was keen to visit the pawn shop again, to find out more about the helmet and its previous owner, as I was starting to wonder what was happening. It seemed that every time I put on the helmet it was as if someone was watching over me- I’m not a superstitious type, but the events of the past week had really got to me.
I searched the pawn shops but couldn’t seem to find my way back to the place where I had bought the helmet. I asked around until finally an old fellow said he remembered a pawnshop that had been run by another old fellow. Following his directions, I turned the corner, and there it was, or what was left of it. The fire engines were just winding up their hoses, and the camera people and news paper reporters were on their way to file their stories. I managed to stop one who told me that the shop had caught fire around midnight, and burnt to the ground. The old fellow lived upstairs and had succumbed to the smoke, but the fireman had pulled him out and he was in the local hospital. I resolved to go and see him when he was feeling a bit better.
A few days later I went along to see the old man, who perked up a bit when he saw me.
“You’re the chap who bought the magic helmet, “ he said.
“Magic helmet, what’s magic about it ?” I asked.
“The previous owner who pawned it said it was really lucky. He said strange things used to happen when he rode to keep him out of trouble, and he was sure the helmet had something to do with it.
Pity he didn’t keep it as I heard he was killed in an accident on his bike the following week !
In all the years that followed, I never had an accident, but often felt strange when I rode, as if someone was riding pillion, and giving me directions…..
I don’t ride a bike nowadays – getting too old for it I suppose. I still have the helmet though, and every now and again I take it down from the shelf, give it a clean, and I wonder…….
THE NEW HELMET
I was wandering round the pawnshops a while ago – you know how it is – looking for that elusive bargain that no-one else has noticed.
After a couple of hours of browsing through all sorts of motorcycle bits and bobs I found myself in a small shop, a bit off the beaten track, a gloomy place that needed a good dose of fresh air, sunlight and a good clean. The old man behind the counter fitted the place to a T – also a bit gloomy and past his sell-by date. Seemed to have a bit of a sense of humour though, something which I was to confirm later on.
Anyway, back to my story –
On a high shelf behind the counter, mostly out of sight , I saw what looked like a helmet bag.
On enquiring of the owner he grumblingly fetched a ladder and hauled the helmet bag down, dusting it off.
On opening the bag, I found the most magnificent full face helmet, and even more amazing, the colours exactly matched my bike !
“Magic helmet, that one “ the old shopkeeper said.
“Pawned by a young fellow a year or so back, down on his luck”
“Didn’t want to part with it, but said he had no choice “ said the old man.
“Strange thing though, I don’t remember it being that colour”
I tried it on, a perfect fit, no wear or scratches, although the place was so dim I don’t think I would have seen much, anyway.
Then the haggling started, but I think both of us knew that I had to have that helmet.
After much to-ing and fro-ing, much consulting of my wallet etc, I walked out into the sunshine, helmet bag under my arm, somewhat poorer but very happy.
My old helmet had become a bit shabby over the past few years, what with the odd track day, being left in the cupboard in the rainy season and so on, so I decided that the next day’s Sunday run was when the new helmet would be worn for the first time. It would need a good clean on the outside first though or all my mates would give me stick about it. I’ve always been a bit fussy about my kit and my friends would love the chance to get one back at me for all my remarks about dirt on their bikes etc etc. The inside was spotless as though it had never been worn - silent word of thanks to the last owner for keeping it in such good nick.
It being a Saturday, I started on the helmet as soon as I got home, you know the drill – warm soapy water, soft cloth , so on.
I was in the middle of all this when the helmet seemed to slip in my hands, I grabbed for it, bent forward and just managed to catch it. As I bent forward, there was a loud crack, the front window shattered and something hit the wall behind me. Needless to say, I ended up on my face on the mat, helmet safely under control.
It turned out that some kid had borrowed his dad’s firearm, and had dropped it outside, loosing off a round, which if I hadn’t leaned forward to catch the helmet, would have hit me squarely in the head !
After much shouting and general mayhem, the culprit was apprehended, and his father agreed to replace my front window. The bullet ended up in the plasterwall, so we hung a picture over it.
After its cleaning the helmet almost seemed to glow, and I put it away, ready for the next day’s ride.
The next morning dawned bright, clear and dry – perfect bike weather , so on went the helmet and kit, and away up the road to meet my mates. The helmet fitted perfectly, no wind noise, no buffeting, almost too good to be true ! The visor had one of those strips that go darker in the sun, which also seemed to be working perfectly. I silently congratulated myself again on my purchase.
Off up the freeway, plenty of speed, no traffic, typical Sunday morning. After a bit of scratching through a few bends, and a good run, we had agreed to stop for breakfast at a nearby roadside inn.
Just as I was approaching the last bend before the breakfast stop, my visor suddenly seemed to go dark, so dark in fact that I couldn’t see what I was doing and had to stop.
As I pulled over, one of my mates went round me on the outside, and disappeared round the bend.
There followed a loud skid, a thud and an all too familiar sliding sound of metal and plastic on tarmac.
I pushed up my visor, and went on around the corner to find my mate lying in the bushes, bike badly bent, and a farmer’s wagon squarely across the road.
Fortunately my mate wasn’t too badly beaten up, so after arranging for his bike to be collected, and agreeing that the farmer would pay for his damages, we all carried on to breakfast.
“Why did you stop ? “ asked my mate,
“Could you see the wagon in the road? “
“My visor must have had a glitch, “ I said
“It went dark on me and I couldn’t see so I had to pull up.
“Lucky for you, “ He said “Must be that new helmet “
I looked at the visor, which was now clear in the dimmer light.
“I dunno” I said, “but whatever it was saved me from colliding with you and the wagon, so I guess I should be thankful.”
The rest of the day went off without further incident, and in the late afternoon I returned home, washed the bike and helmet, and put all the kit away ready for the next time. I don’t generally ride the bike to work, so on Monday morning I went outside and turned the car key only to find the battery was flat.
So out came the leather jacket, helmet and gloves again, me not in a good mood as the weather looked foul and ready to rain any minute. Fired up the bike and away. Two minutes down the road and – you guessed it – the heavens opened. Really bucketing down it was and I thought the helmet might mist up or the visor go dark, but no, no misting, which was strange as there was no noseguard. All of a sudden, I was all set to pass a truck when something said “back off ! “, and I’m not one to tempt fate, so I shut down and pulled back in, and the next second saw an old lady who had wandered into the road, and who would most definitely have ended up under the bike if I had passed the truck.
No further incidents took place that day or for the rest of the week, the car ran normally, and all was as it should be. I was keen to visit the pawn shop again, to find out more about the helmet and its previous owner, as I was starting to wonder what was happening. It seemed that every time I put on the helmet it was as if someone was watching over me- I’m not a superstitious type, but the events of the past week had really got to me.
I searched the pawn shops but couldn’t seem to find my way back to the place where I had bought the helmet. I asked around until finally an old fellow said he remembered a pawnshop that had been run by another old fellow. Following his directions, I turned the corner, and there it was, or what was left of it. The fire engines were just winding up their hoses, and the camera people and news paper reporters were on their way to file their stories. I managed to stop one who told me that the shop had caught fire around midnight, and burnt to the ground. The old fellow lived upstairs and had succumbed to the smoke, but the fireman had pulled him out and he was in the local hospital. I resolved to go and see him when he was feeling a bit better.
A few days later I went along to see the old man, who perked up a bit when he saw me.
“You’re the chap who bought the magic helmet, “ he said.
“Magic helmet, what’s magic about it ?” I asked.
“The previous owner who pawned it said it was really lucky. He said strange things used to happen when he rode to keep him out of trouble, and he was sure the helmet had something to do with it.
Pity he didn’t keep it as I heard he was killed in an accident on his bike the following week !
In all the years that followed, I never had an accident, but often felt strange when I rode, as if someone was riding pillion, and giving me directions…..
I don’t ride a bike nowadays – getting too old for it I suppose. I still have the helmet though, and every now and again I take it down from the shelf, give it a clean, and I wonder…….
#7
07-03-2009, 12:46 AM
Senior Member
Join Date: Apr 2009
Location: Seattle, WA
Posts: 419
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
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0 Posts
If you like freaky stories.........................
THE NEW HELMET
I was wandering round the pawnshops a while ago – you know how it is – looking for that elusive bargain that no-one else has noticed.
After a couple of hours of browsing through all sorts of motorcycle bits and bobs I found myself in a small shop, a bit off the beaten track, a gloomy place that needed a good dose of fresh air, sunlight and a good clean. The old man behind the counter fitted the place to a T – also a bit gloomy and past his sell-by date. Seemed to have a bit of a sense of humour though, something which I was to confirm later on.
Anyway, back to my story –
On a high shelf behind the counter, mostly out of sight , I saw what looked like a helmet bag.
On enquiring of the owner he grumblingly fetched a ladder and hauled the helmet bag down, dusting it off.
On opening the bag, I found the most magnificent full face helmet, and even more amazing, the colours exactly matched my bike !
“Magic helmet, that one “ the old shopkeeper said.
“Pawned by a young fellow a year or so back, down on his luck”
“Didn’t want to part with it, but said he had no choice “ said the old man.
“Strange thing though, I don’t remember it being that colour”
I tried it on, a perfect fit, no wear or scratches, although the place was so dim I don’t think I would have seen much, anyway.
Then the haggling started, but I think both of us knew that I had to have that helmet.
After much to-ing and fro-ing, much consulting of my wallet etc, I walked out into the sunshine, helmet bag under my arm, somewhat poorer but very happy.
My old helmet had become a bit shabby over the past few years, what with the odd track day, being left in the cupboard in the rainy season and so on, so I decided that the next day’s Sunday run was when the new helmet would be worn for the first time. It would need a good clean on the outside first though or all my mates would give me stick about it. I’ve always been a bit fussy about my kit and my friends would love the chance to get one back at me for all my remarks about dirt on their bikes etc etc. The inside was spotless as though it had never been worn - silent word of thanks to the last owner for keeping it in such good nick.
It being a Saturday, I started on the helmet as soon as I got home, you know the drill – warm soapy water, soft cloth , so on.
I was in the middle of all this when the helmet seemed to slip in my hands, I grabbed for it, bent forward and just managed to catch it. As I bent forward, there was a loud crack, the front window shattered and something hit the wall behind me. Needless to say, I ended up on my face on the mat, helmet safely under control.
It turned out that some kid had borrowed his dad’s firearm, and had dropped it outside, loosing off a round, which if I hadn’t leaned forward to catch the helmet, would have hit me squarely in the head !
After much shouting and general mayhem, the culprit was apprehended, and his father agreed to replace my front window. The bullet ended up in the plasterwall, so we hung a picture over it.
After its cleaning the helmet almost seemed to glow, and I put it away, ready for the next day’s ride.
The next morning dawned bright, clear and dry – perfect bike weather , so on went the helmet and kit, and away up the road to meet my mates. The helmet fitted perfectly, no wind noise, no buffeting, almost too good to be true ! The visor had one of those strips that go darker in the sun, which also seemed to be working perfectly. I silently congratulated myself again on my purchase.
Off up the freeway, plenty of speed, no traffic, typical Sunday morning. After a bit of scratching through a few bends, and a good run, we had agreed to stop for breakfast at a nearby roadside inn.
Just as I was approaching the last bend before the breakfast stop, my visor suddenly seemed to go dark, so dark in fact that I couldn’t see what I was doing and had to stop.
As I pulled over, one of my mates went round me on the outside, and disappeared round the bend.
There followed a loud skid, a thud and an all too familiar sliding sound of metal and plastic on tarmac.
I pushed up my visor, and went on around the corner to find my mate lying in the bushes, bike badly bent, and a farmer’s wagon squarely across the road.
Fortunately my mate wasn’t too badly beaten up, so after arranging for his bike to be collected, and agreeing that the farmer would pay for his damages, we all carried on to breakfast.
“Why did you stop ? “ asked my mate,
“Could you see the wagon in the road? “
“My visor must have had a glitch, “ I said
“It went dark on me and I couldn’t see so I had to pull up.
“Lucky for you, “ He said “Must be that new helmet “
I looked at the visor, which was now clear in the dimmer light.
“I dunno” I said, “but whatever it was saved me from colliding with you and the wagon, so I guess I should be thankful.”
The rest of the day went off without further incident, and in the late afternoon I returned home, washed the bike and helmet, and put all the kit away ready for the next time. I don’t generally ride the bike to work, so on Monday morning I went outside and turned the car key only to find the battery was flat.
So out came the leather jacket, helmet and gloves again, me not in a good mood as the weather looked foul and ready to rain any minute. Fired up the bike and away. Two minutes down the road and – you guessed it – the heavens opened. Really bucketing down it was and I thought the helmet might mist up or the visor go dark, but no, no misting, which was strange as there was no noseguard. All of a sudden, I was all set to pass a truck when something said “back off ! “, and I’m not one to tempt fate, so I shut down and pulled back in, and the next second saw an old lady who had wandered into the road, and who would most definitely have ended up under the bike if I had passed the truck.
No further incidents took place that day or for the rest of the week, the car ran normally, and all was as it should be. I was keen to visit the pawn shop again, to find out more about the helmet and its previous owner, as I was starting to wonder what was happening. It seemed that every time I put on the helmet it was as if someone was watching over me- I’m not a superstitious type, but the events of the past week had really got to me.
I searched the pawn shops but couldn’t seem to find my way back to the place where I had bought the helmet. I asked around until finally an old fellow said he remembered a pawnshop that had been run by another old fellow. Following his directions, I turned the corner, and there it was, or what was left of it. The fire engines were just winding up their hoses, and the camera people and news paper reporters were on their way to file their stories. I managed to stop one who told me that the shop had caught fire around midnight, and burnt to the ground. The old fellow lived upstairs and had succumbed to the smoke, but the fireman had pulled him out and he was in the local hospital. I resolved to go and see him when he was feeling a bit better.
A few days later I went along to see the old man, who perked up a bit when he saw me.
“You’re the chap who bought the magic helmet, “ he said.
“Magic helmet, what’s magic about it ?” I asked.
“The previous owner who pawned it said it was really lucky. He said strange things used to happen when he rode to keep him out of trouble, and he was sure the helmet had something to do with it.
Pity he didn’t keep it as I heard he was killed in an accident on his bike the following week !
In all the years that followed, I never had an accident, but often felt strange when I rode, as if someone was riding pillion, and giving me directions…..
I don’t ride a bike nowadays – getting too old for it I suppose. I still have the helmet though, and every now and again I take it down from the shelf, give it a clean, and I wonder…….
THE NEW HELMET
I was wandering round the pawnshops a while ago – you know how it is – looking for that elusive bargain that no-one else has noticed.
After a couple of hours of browsing through all sorts of motorcycle bits and bobs I found myself in a small shop, a bit off the beaten track, a gloomy place that needed a good dose of fresh air, sunlight and a good clean. The old man behind the counter fitted the place to a T – also a bit gloomy and past his sell-by date. Seemed to have a bit of a sense of humour though, something which I was to confirm later on.
Anyway, back to my story –
On a high shelf behind the counter, mostly out of sight , I saw what looked like a helmet bag.
On enquiring of the owner he grumblingly fetched a ladder and hauled the helmet bag down, dusting it off.
On opening the bag, I found the most magnificent full face helmet, and even more amazing, the colours exactly matched my bike !
“Magic helmet, that one “ the old shopkeeper said.
“Pawned by a young fellow a year or so back, down on his luck”
“Didn’t want to part with it, but said he had no choice “ said the old man.
“Strange thing though, I don’t remember it being that colour”
I tried it on, a perfect fit, no wear or scratches, although the place was so dim I don’t think I would have seen much, anyway.
Then the haggling started, but I think both of us knew that I had to have that helmet.
After much to-ing and fro-ing, much consulting of my wallet etc, I walked out into the sunshine, helmet bag under my arm, somewhat poorer but very happy.
My old helmet had become a bit shabby over the past few years, what with the odd track day, being left in the cupboard in the rainy season and so on, so I decided that the next day’s Sunday run was when the new helmet would be worn for the first time. It would need a good clean on the outside first though or all my mates would give me stick about it. I’ve always been a bit fussy about my kit and my friends would love the chance to get one back at me for all my remarks about dirt on their bikes etc etc. The inside was spotless as though it had never been worn - silent word of thanks to the last owner for keeping it in such good nick.
It being a Saturday, I started on the helmet as soon as I got home, you know the drill – warm soapy water, soft cloth , so on.
I was in the middle of all this when the helmet seemed to slip in my hands, I grabbed for it, bent forward and just managed to catch it. As I bent forward, there was a loud crack, the front window shattered and something hit the wall behind me. Needless to say, I ended up on my face on the mat, helmet safely under control.
It turned out that some kid had borrowed his dad’s firearm, and had dropped it outside, loosing off a round, which if I hadn’t leaned forward to catch the helmet, would have hit me squarely in the head !
After much shouting and general mayhem, the culprit was apprehended, and his father agreed to replace my front window. The bullet ended up in the plasterwall, so we hung a picture over it.
After its cleaning the helmet almost seemed to glow, and I put it away, ready for the next day’s ride.
The next morning dawned bright, clear and dry – perfect bike weather , so on went the helmet and kit, and away up the road to meet my mates. The helmet fitted perfectly, no wind noise, no buffeting, almost too good to be true ! The visor had one of those strips that go darker in the sun, which also seemed to be working perfectly. I silently congratulated myself again on my purchase.
Off up the freeway, plenty of speed, no traffic, typical Sunday morning. After a bit of scratching through a few bends, and a good run, we had agreed to stop for breakfast at a nearby roadside inn.
Just as I was approaching the last bend before the breakfast stop, my visor suddenly seemed to go dark, so dark in fact that I couldn’t see what I was doing and had to stop.
As I pulled over, one of my mates went round me on the outside, and disappeared round the bend.
There followed a loud skid, a thud and an all too familiar sliding sound of metal and plastic on tarmac.
I pushed up my visor, and went on around the corner to find my mate lying in the bushes, bike badly bent, and a farmer’s wagon squarely across the road.
Fortunately my mate wasn’t too badly beaten up, so after arranging for his bike to be collected, and agreeing that the farmer would pay for his damages, we all carried on to breakfast.
“Why did you stop ? “ asked my mate,
“Could you see the wagon in the road? “
“My visor must have had a glitch, “ I said
“It went dark on me and I couldn’t see so I had to pull up.
“Lucky for you, “ He said “Must be that new helmet “
I looked at the visor, which was now clear in the dimmer light.
“I dunno” I said, “but whatever it was saved me from colliding with you and the wagon, so I guess I should be thankful.”
The rest of the day went off without further incident, and in the late afternoon I returned home, washed the bike and helmet, and put all the kit away ready for the next time. I don’t generally ride the bike to work, so on Monday morning I went outside and turned the car key only to find the battery was flat.
So out came the leather jacket, helmet and gloves again, me not in a good mood as the weather looked foul and ready to rain any minute. Fired up the bike and away. Two minutes down the road and – you guessed it – the heavens opened. Really bucketing down it was and I thought the helmet might mist up or the visor go dark, but no, no misting, which was strange as there was no noseguard. All of a sudden, I was all set to pass a truck when something said “back off ! “, and I’m not one to tempt fate, so I shut down and pulled back in, and the next second saw an old lady who had wandered into the road, and who would most definitely have ended up under the bike if I had passed the truck.
No further incidents took place that day or for the rest of the week, the car ran normally, and all was as it should be. I was keen to visit the pawn shop again, to find out more about the helmet and its previous owner, as I was starting to wonder what was happening. It seemed that every time I put on the helmet it was as if someone was watching over me- I’m not a superstitious type, but the events of the past week had really got to me.
I searched the pawn shops but couldn’t seem to find my way back to the place where I had bought the helmet. I asked around until finally an old fellow said he remembered a pawnshop that had been run by another old fellow. Following his directions, I turned the corner, and there it was, or what was left of it. The fire engines were just winding up their hoses, and the camera people and news paper reporters were on their way to file their stories. I managed to stop one who told me that the shop had caught fire around midnight, and burnt to the ground. The old fellow lived upstairs and had succumbed to the smoke, but the fireman had pulled him out and he was in the local hospital. I resolved to go and see him when he was feeling a bit better.
A few days later I went along to see the old man, who perked up a bit when he saw me.
“You’re the chap who bought the magic helmet, “ he said.
“Magic helmet, what’s magic about it ?” I asked.
“The previous owner who pawned it said it was really lucky. He said strange things used to happen when he rode to keep him out of trouble, and he was sure the helmet had something to do with it.
Pity he didn’t keep it as I heard he was killed in an accident on his bike the following week !
In all the years that followed, I never had an accident, but often felt strange when I rode, as if someone was riding pillion, and giving me directions…..
I don’t ride a bike nowadays – getting too old for it I suppose. I still have the helmet though, and every now and again I take it down from the shelf, give it a clean, and I wonder…….
#8
07-03-2009, 08:12 AM
Senior Member
#10
07-05-2009, 10:39 AM
Alright, here's one that just happened last night. I'll preface this by saying I grew up with a father who's a diesel mechanic, and have thus personally been working on \ with cars, trucks and such since I was like 12. I know what's wrong with this story, and that's what makes it funny:
I'm leaving the gym, and the lots empty (cuz of the holiday) except for some middle-aged dude who's just pacing around in his gym clothes and towel. It's drizzling, so I'm rushing to get all my gear out and on, and he walks up, and starts the classic "I pretend i know Motorcycles" convo. I got to deal with such classics as "What size is the engine?" and "How fast does it go?"
Then he starts telling me about some 50cc something or other he had in the 60s. Mind you, I'm doing nothing to provoke this conversation. I'm not even nodding my head. Then he asks what kind of gas milage I get, and I made the mistake of responding. This sends him off on a conspiracy theorist tangent, which I'll save you the details of. Here's the good bit, which I'll type out in dialgue form, to emphasize the fun:
Tin-Foil Hat Man: . . .so when they distill crude oil, the FIRST thing they skim off is gasoline! The gasoline is the crappiest part, cuz it floats to the top!
Me: . . . .yeah.
THM: Then after that, they get the diesel, cuz its in between the gas and the motor oil, so its a mix. That's why diesel is so efficient; it's not cuz of the engine, its cuz oil has way more hydrocarbons than gas (yes, he said "hydrocarbons").
Me:. . .it sure does.
THM: So what *I've* been doing, is asking for my used motor oil back when I get an oil change, and I put it in the gas tank when I fill up.
Me: You. . .dump four quarts of used oil into your gas tank?
THM: HAHA!! NO! That'd wreck it! I do like a 1 - 2% additive. I just inject it in there with a baby's medicine syringe.
Me: You're still taking used, dirty motor oil, filled with carbon and various other impurities and deposits, and injecting it right into your cylinders.
THM: It's not dirty! Cars have an oil filter that takes all of that stuff out!
Me: So then why do we ever bother changing the oil? Why not just the filter?
THM: Because the oil loses it's ability to lubricate over time. But, it's still combustible! Because of all the extra hydrocarbons, it's like running a lean diesel mixture that an unleaded engine can handle! I get 20% increase in gas mileage, and because some of that oil lubricates the cylinder walls, it reduces THAT resistance, AND makes the thing run dead silent!
Me: The oil you just said no longer lubricates.
THM: Well, it still does, just not up to spec enough to handle the whole engine. It still does a mean job on the cylinder chambers, though.
Me: I see. I'm gonna try that next time I change my oil.
THM: Well, I'm not saying YOU should. I'm just sayin *I* tried it, and it works for *me.*
Me: Ah. Thanks for all of this, I learned a lot. I have to get home and dry off now.
I'm leaving the gym, and the lots empty (cuz of the holiday) except for some middle-aged dude who's just pacing around in his gym clothes and towel. It's drizzling, so I'm rushing to get all my gear out and on, and he walks up, and starts the classic "I pretend i know Motorcycles" convo. I got to deal with such classics as "What size is the engine?" and "How fast does it go?"
Then he starts telling me about some 50cc something or other he had in the 60s. Mind you, I'm doing nothing to provoke this conversation. I'm not even nodding my head. Then he asks what kind of gas milage I get, and I made the mistake of responding. This sends him off on a conspiracy theorist tangent, which I'll save you the details of. Here's the good bit, which I'll type out in dialgue form, to emphasize the fun:
Tin-Foil Hat Man: . . .so when they distill crude oil, the FIRST thing they skim off is gasoline! The gasoline is the crappiest part, cuz it floats to the top!
Me: . . . .yeah.
THM: Then after that, they get the diesel, cuz its in between the gas and the motor oil, so its a mix. That's why diesel is so efficient; it's not cuz of the engine, its cuz oil has way more hydrocarbons than gas (yes, he said "hydrocarbons").
Me:. . .it sure does.
THM: So what *I've* been doing, is asking for my used motor oil back when I get an oil change, and I put it in the gas tank when I fill up.
Me: You. . .dump four quarts of used oil into your gas tank?
THM: HAHA!! NO! That'd wreck it! I do like a 1 - 2% additive. I just inject it in there with a baby's medicine syringe.
Me: You're still taking used, dirty motor oil, filled with carbon and various other impurities and deposits, and injecting it right into your cylinders.
THM: It's not dirty! Cars have an oil filter that takes all of that stuff out!
Me: So then why do we ever bother changing the oil? Why not just the filter?
THM: Because the oil loses it's ability to lubricate over time. But, it's still combustible! Because of all the extra hydrocarbons, it's like running a lean diesel mixture that an unleaded engine can handle! I get 20% increase in gas mileage, and because some of that oil lubricates the cylinder walls, it reduces THAT resistance, AND makes the thing run dead silent!
Me: The oil you just said no longer lubricates.
THM: Well, it still does, just not up to spec enough to handle the whole engine. It still does a mean job on the cylinder chambers, though.
Me: I see. I'm gonna try that next time I change my oil.
THM: Well, I'm not saying YOU should. I'm just sayin *I* tried it, and it works for *me.*
Me: Ah. Thanks for all of this, I learned a lot. I have to get home and dry off now.
Last edited by johnnyx; 07-05-2009 at 10:43 AM.
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