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This newspaper clipping is just to funny to ignore: how the poor chappie broke his collarbone

Jack

Well-Known Member
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123
Locality
Silvis, IL
collar bone.jpg
 
I knew going to Spxxxxxxxs was a mistake but this is ridiculous.
 
After reading that, I guess I can't say I've ever had a bad day in my life.
 
Firstly,let me state that pulling your bike into the lounge is an entirely normal and accepted practice. It is a rite of passage (pardon). The rest, if it is true, smacks somewhat of those Darwin Awards, where people have extracted themselves from the gene pool by their own spectacular stupidity. ( this in no way implies I'm not guilty of memorable personal incidents myself :old:)
 
As I type this, sat next my 1100cc cruiser in the lounge I am reminded of the other classic tale about a bloke lowering bricks in a barrel.

A friend of mine had a discussion with his wife about having a central heating radiator fitted in the garage. She informed him it was excessive but recanted when he parked his bike in the lounge.

My first wife was very pleased with the new rug till she realised it was masking a huge oil stain. Ooops
 
Nothing at all wrong with having a motorbike inside the house, of course. The rest is just an old urban myth. Been retold a thousand times.
 
Around our way the bike didn't go in the lounge. Usually it was just behind the front door. I bought a Trident from a guy who kept it in his mother's kitchen.
 
I somehow feel my existence is justified, and am so normal I'm going out the other side... Bikes are FAR prettier to look at than collections of porcelain plates, fluffy cuddly toys, and a rampant collection of scatter-cushions.... These were taken in my lounge in Ireland a couple years ago.. before I threw out the tv for good

C'mon fellas! Show 'n tell!

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Suzuki.JPG
 
And why is the Landy standing outside alone? I think we need to involve the National Society of Ill Treated Land Rovers.
 
mmmmmm... SHINY!!! Black 'n chrome beaut, there she is...nice one Colin!
Kev, the logistics of installing a wide enough door to the lounge were monstrous. Though I used to pack a picnic and sit on the fender while hurling abuse at passing cyclists. Not because I dislike them particularly, but they were the only things that moved slow enough for me to overtake (most times)......:p
 
This is an ancient joke. Please don't take it as real.
No, it's perfectly true.

I met this fellow's wife at a party, she told me all about it and said she was going to divorce him.

Just after that he accidentally lit up a stick of dynamite after his Christmas dinner - thinking it was a cigar - and saved her the trouble.

But it cost her a few new walls, windows, doors, a ceiling, a grandfather clock and a hearing aid for the cat.
 
I am reminded of the time I serviced the Z1000 in the kitchen diner of my first bachelor pad which I shared with my cousin. Everything was sorted and I'd put a shot of Red X in each cylinder before fitting the new plugs. All I needed to do was turn the engine over with the kickstart and take it outside to start it up. To my consternation the engine wouldn't budge. I was bouncing on it with my considerable weight to no avail. Nothing was moving. In a state of mounting anxiety I decided to enlist the help of the electric start. So bouncing up and down on the kickstart and pushing the button for the starter it finally moved. Unfortunately it let go suddenly and with my whole weight on the kickstart I plummeted downwards, losing my balance and knocking the engine kill switch from stop to run. My world disappeared in a choking white fog. Coughing and spluttering I killed the engine and staggered to the back door and out into the yard followed by the thick smoke. I came back in after a few minutes to open some windows and the front door to clear the fog to find my cousin reading the newspaper in the front room.

"Aren't you supposed to do that outside?"

There was a distinct engineering smell to the kitchen for weeks after.
 
Splendid.

Reminds me of a lad I was at school with. He'd left his CB100N outside his parents house, on a particularly cold Northern night. Following morning he got fed up with his foot slipping off the iced up kick start lever. So, smart lad, he grabbed it with his hand and gave it a good yank. Kick back broke his wrist.......
 
When I was a kid the chap next door to us came over the garden wall and landed in our yard. He got up muttering and dusted himself down and went back next door. He had a combination Panther 600cc single cylinder. He was'n't a big bloke and the kick back, as he stood on the kickstart, had fired him over the wall. I was well warned.
 

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