Most Horrifying Incident on your motorcycle

[Tobit]

We called them split shifts at West Michigan Public Broadcasting.  The engineer on the M-F rotation worked Mon-Tues 3am-noon, Wed 8a-5p and Thurs-Fri 3p-midnight for three months.  I got home one Monday or Tuesday at noon, crashed into the bed immediately then woke up at 4pm thinking it was the next day and I was late for work.  I was still dressed from the morning shift.

Jumped on the R100RT in a total panic and raced to work breaking every speed limit in Fulton county, only to find it was still the same day and I'd left work a few hours earlier.

Quit that sadistic job and have worked 9-5 ever since.

Tobit

[johnr]

There are a number of incidents that come to mind reading this thread. There were  a couple of fatal accidents that occurred, one right beside me and the other just in front of me. Those should have been horrifying, but weren't really, as such reactions had to be put on hold  while decisions and actions were taken.

There was a time when I was run off a road that was bordered by a 250' drop into a lake and an impossibly sharp turn required right ahead. That should have been horrifying too, but wasn't because I was so surely a dead man that I had a calm acceptance reaction.

There was a time in Auckland when I was waiting at the lights at an intersection with the main street. It was the pedestrians turn and in that place they crossed in all directions at the same time. A group of Islanders crossing diagonally veered toward me and the knives came out.  The Rockets front wheel pawed the air and smoke erupted of the rear wheel as I carved a path through pedestrians that were diving in all directions.  I was too young and bullet proof to be particularly horrified though. More annoyed than anything.

There were many more events that might qualify. Too many for a single post.

On the numerous runs I did between Auckland and Invercargill on my Rocket 3 during the 1st half of the 70s (about 1000 miles each way with a nice ferry ride in the middle), I would sometimes amuse myself by imagining emergency scenarios and devising the best reaction to them. Now this was reasonably horrifying because they were all in my head and there appeared to be quite a number of these scenarios to which there was just no answer.  I sometimes had to stop for a smoke just to get my nerves settled.

I think perhaps the most horrifying is when one such scenario came to pass. I was on my way round the Southland Coast from Invercargill to meet up with my family at the mouth of the Waiau River.  I was humming along at about 70 mph when I crested a hill to find a Mercedes doing a similar speed straight toward me on the wrong side of the road!  What made this particularly horrifying was that said Mercedes was being driven by my aging father and contained the rest of my family!

Closing time was extremely short,  but was enough for my old man to move sufficiently for me to get by.  I had a few quite serious words with him later.

[Gliderjohn]

I have been very lucky and have not had a major accident but a very close call that sticks in my mind. This was in the early 80s and I was riding my Suzuki GS400 back to Wichita from Beaver Lake, AR. It had been a full weekend of sailing and skiing and I was fairly exhausted. It was also a very warm and pleasant night. About 30 miles South of Wichita I wake up bouncing along at highway speeds in the right ditch with a barb wire fence about a yard to my right. I was able get slowed down and back on the road just before I would have hit a culvert. This could have gone so wrong in so many ways. I stopped twice for coffee during that last 30 miles.
GliderJohn

[Triple Jim]

That's the kind of thing that makes me carry some straight caffeine in the cars and bikes, John.  At times like that, falling asleep can be deadly, and stopping to sleep might not be possible at that moment. 

[Shorty]

The worst thing I've seen in riding since the 60s : In my 100 man aircraft repair shop, in a 5 year period, 3 individuals lost legs riding motorcycles (3 seperate accidents), another had his pillion passenger killed in a wreck, another permanently in a wheelchair, and a couple others got busted up badly enough to miss weeks of work and require crutches. Most horrible, I resurrected an 850T from a junkyard, got it running good, and then sold it to a man who within weeks got drunk and killed his wife on it. Not on my bike, true, but horrible .

This is why I do not call riding a 'sport', nor do I encourage others to learn to street ride. I still love to ride, but I'm easily skeered.

[Farmer Dan]

I had just made a trade of a Buick LeSaber for a Suzuki GT750 full dresser and was out for a test ride.  All was good and bike was running strong.  Got on US27 expressway doing just north of 70mph when the front wheel locked up.  I went straight over the handle bars and landed on the pavement on my belly sliding for about a 100 yards.   A farmer working his field said he saw the bike go end for end and me fly through the air and came to my aide.  The bike was in the ditch and totaled, my riding cloths were shredded but I was ok, had no serious injury.  Sore as heck for a few days but no broken bones or road rash.  I've never sat on another Suzuki since then.

[SteveAZ]

Mine was off road.

Around '84 or '85, putting me at 15 or 16 years old. My older brother and I were desert riding in Arizona. The area we were riding was a great mix of wide open fire road, tight single track and jeep trails with a lot of MX style jumps (if you went fast enough).

There was a couple mile long sandwash that had 6-8 foot walls on either side except for a few small feeder washes here and there. This wash connected two great riding areas and we were heading from one to the other. Wash was about 20 feet wide. My bro was up front on his '83 Maico 490 and I was doing my best to keep up on my '81 Maico 250 meaning I was WFO in 5th gear. Probably about 60mph....

While approaching one of the small feeder washes where the walls of the main wash were eroded, I saw a large dog!? run out of the feeder wash and directly into my path. Someones poor yellow lab that was obviously lost in the desert. This happened in about 1-2 seconds and I was wide open in deep sand, so I was riding ass over the back fender to keep the front tire skimming the sand. Braking hard would have been an instant crash. I was also a teenager with about 3 years of riding under my belt, certainly not seasoned. So I pulled back on the bars HARD to try to lift the front end. I'm not sure if the front tire went up or not as it all happened so fast, but in an instant, I'd hit the dog and I was then in the air in full superman position, holding the bars with the front end pointed downward by about 25 degrees. Bike was a few feet off the ground. Bike lands, I slam back onto the seat, boots not on the pegs and I let off the throttle. Got my boots back on the pegs and slowed down a gradually as I could....I was in full on adrenaline mode at that point, full body cold sweat. Got the bike stopped, turned around and the poor dog was running in little circles. He then took off up the same feeder wash he's come out off. It was too brush filled to go find him so I'm sure the poor guy had a much worse day than I did, probably his last. My brother didn't see anything until he noticed I wasn't behind him. By the time he came back I'd gotten off the bike and had my helmet off.

To this day I feel incredibly lucky and also incredibly sorry for that poor damn lost Lab.





 

[oldbike54]

 This is pretty tame compared to some stories here , but was damned uncomfortable at the time .

 An old bridge spanning the Illinois River in Eastern OK was one of those suspension types , single lane. The state had been planning a new bridge for years , so instead of replacing the bed when it deteriorated , they simply placed two wooden runners across the span . Of course the runners began to self destruct in short time . A couple of years back a buddy and I were back roading , and needed to use the old bridge , as both of us needed fuel , and the only fuel was on the other side . Well , up the old /5 goes , about 5 MPH , just fast enough to maintain balance , doing pretty good until , oops , a cracked board sends me to the right , onto the very old original wooden bed . Now , there is about one inch between the handledebars and the bridge frame , and no way to lift the beemer the eight inches up onto the runner . Still about fifty yards to the other side , unsure of the original bed supporting the rider and bike . Had to keep the wheels right against the new runner to allow clearance , and hope the runner was straight and the space between it and the nasty looking bridge girders remained constant . Well , we creaked and bumped along , trying not to look at the forty foot fall into the river .

  Dusty

[Sasquatch Jim]

I don't remember much about it and nothing about the actual crash.  The violence of it seems to have erased some of my memory tapes.  I remember a fraction of a second seeing a deers' head about 12 inches in front of my face.  I remember waking up lying in the road in an awkward position in terrible agony and not able to breathe.  My hand was twisted into a position that I instinctively knew was not possible and I was looking into a tunnel like hole in the hand wondering when the blood would start to come out. I remember trying to do a mind over matter thing to help with the pain but being unable to breathe interfered with that.   Then I remember waking up in darkness in an intensive care unit still in awful pain and still unable to move anything but my left hand.  I was told it was Wed. 10:30 PM.  I had crashed about 9:00 am on sunday.  A few weeks later a deputy told me I was dead when he arrived and showed me photographs.  It had not been a good day,
 I'm glad I don't remember it.  I hope I never repeat it.   

[Orange Guzzi]

Angie.  We where hanging in the stone quarry tunnels.  She said she liked it because it was cool. Her boyfriend never figured out why such a short ride took so long. 

[twowheeladdict]

The original post wasn't horrifying,  but could have been.  I probably have too many to remember 'could have been horrifying ' events in my several 100,000 miles of riding.

Only one horrifying event was getting t-boned whole sitting one vehicle back at a stop sign.

[dibble]

I was a London motorbike Courier for years and had lots and I mean LOTS of crashes my mind has deleted the bad bits.

I treat the front caliper falling off and the main frame tube snapping incidents as jokes.

The horrifying bits were scraping up mate after their offs.
If anyone crashed it was a matter of pride to get there before the ambulance and at least stop the police towing their bike and charging them so you saw
Helmet shaped dents in windscreens
legs pointing the wrong way.
a mate sliding on a wet manhole then seeing a van drive over his own arm

Turned up once and the guilty driver was complaining about the damage to his car, took three policemen to restrain me, no punches were thrown and it all ended up amicably between me and the coppers. They made me sit there whilst the driver got a 30 minute head start.

One thing that did scare me was this,

 On a boiling hot day I'd just filled up my CX500, pulling out of the petrol station the back end went.

I ended up with my left leg wedged under the bike, the exhaust burning into my leg and gallons of fuel pouring over me, the engine kept running, I couldn't  get to the kill switch and I was lying in a large pool of 95 octane and it was getting hotter and hotter,

The bike weighed over 550lbs and it was all on my leg, sheer fear pulled me free.

Soaked in petrol I couldn't light a cigarette for half an hour.

Never mind hey, broke my wrist once (well broken it three times actually) and a mate picked me up from Accident and Emergency on his VFR.

[oldbike54]

 Dibble old man , my understanding is that every day is a horrifying event for London dispatch riders 

  Dusty

[Triple Jim]

I used to have a friend back up in the DC area decades ago, who was a motorcycle messenger in Washington, DC.  He and all his fellow messengers had plenty of horror stories, and they all hated cab drivers.  The company supplied BMWs, so there were also plenty of BMW stories and knowledge passed around.  One of the test questions to get a job at that company asked whether it was better to slow down by using the brakes, or by downshifting and using engine braking.  If you said downshifting you didn't get the job, because of the difficulty of replacing clutches.

[cruzziguzzi]

Kind of a three-way for "horrifying" at the moment with one clear winner for "buy a lottery ticket!" status.

Got "clothes lined", twice and within miles of one another. Both were just outside of Fort Devens, Mass. One was on my TT500 riding some trails to cut through to my favorite riding in Mass - along the high tension power lines. A fella could get off post through the defunct rail yards, play: Dodge The Townies till a huge private acreage and then cut through that to the power lines.

From there, no limit other than one's own endurance regarding pulling that beast out of bottom wallows on the service road.

Unfortunately, though the property owner was a known fella, and openly allowed and in fact invited off-road bikes onto his property (he felt it kept, useful to him, trails open) some local new England do-gooders had taken it upon them selves to "protect" that environment. They had strung all manner of horrible items across trails and I caught a strand of cattle fence wire. Think barbed wire without barbs. Nearly invisible and exceptionally unforgiving. Put me down, wrecked my neck and gave me appropriate bends to the Yamaha.

Later, I called on the owner and advised him to put up signs - damn near everyone would honor them. He told me he knew nothing about it and put his money where his mouth was by prosecuting the enviro-warriors for trespassing. No signs so he lost but his point was made.

The second clothes-line was ALL my fault and only miles from there. The airfield for Ft Devens is in fact a detached entity. Little bitty thing barely tolerant of C-130s. To get to it, one leaves the main gate, hangs a hard left then a hard right and mosies on through some very pretty country with a fine and twisty road.

The very day I was to leave base to go to language school out in Monterey, I found a need to go out to the airbase to do something or other with the Riggers out at the airfield. On the way back on my super sweet little Kawasaki GPZ550, I was in a fine state and motoring along very enthusiastically. On the way, there is necessity for the road to address a railroad crossing. Here, they had done it by passing the road beneath the tracks - very aggressively. It was the kind of dip that would, beneath the track, trap tractor trailers of the wrong dimension.

What it did for us was give us sort of a "gravity cavity" with a jump on the other side. Unfortunately, given the specifics, it presented as rather "blind", more the fun!

So, enter Todd, Schwantz-ing along. The GPZ singing as they did and here comes the last fun bit before base. I check my gear, tuck in, wait for the world to fall from beneath me and then smash back to earth at the bottom. A great part of the fun here is that if you didn't know better, you would think you're going to nail the bridge but you always fall in time. Still...

So, gas, fly, control crash and you gun it up the other side to get a bit of air before settling down within sight of the gate MPs.

Except!

They had been, for a very long time, working to take the kink out and line up more directly with the gate. In doing this, for months, on the way out one used the new road but on the way back, one used the old kink.

Not anymore. The return traffic was now directed to a left sweep. The last couple times times I did this Top Gun crap, I barely made the sweep as by the time you're down and solid from the exuberant exit, you just barely - and only with the greatest confidence in one's self and ride - are able to hammer the bike over and hang on. Otherwise, I could ride on, past the "road closed" sign on the center strip, slow "U" and proceed responsibly along.

This time, getting ready to leave Devens, thrilled at returning to Monterey and its riding and not a little amped from the Rigger shed visit, I had really hauled ass outa the hole. No damn way I was gonna make it but all's well. Shame's my game, and I go on to do the "U". Too late, I see that they had strung a chain from trees on either side of the road, to the sign!

Damn thing hits the bikini fairing, slips over the controls, tears up my forearms and stops playing nice at my neck. I got hauled off that bike like I just got Road Runnered in a cartoon trap. I'm off the bike, sign goes down and I just make it up to my elbows in time to see that previously fine little red rocket scoot off into the woods.

Jeezum Crow! How'd I make it outa that one? I was in exceptional shape and had a damn good full-face to take the brunt and keep my jaw where it is today. I shudder to think how many fellas - and a coupe a gals - would have missed their shots at that target had the helmet not kept it on my brain-ball. Sure did leave a lot of skin on that chain though.

The third was actually scarier as I had considerably more time to contemplate what condition my condition was in.

I was tooling along, on the way home to Minnesota on leave in the Army. I had injudiciously decided to ride my '82 Katana as a nod to frugality (Guzzicontent) even though it was a very, very cold November. I had a wonderful pile of gear on to keep me warm to include some new Gates Gore-Tex gloves. Generally, I was getting about 215 miles per tank so I'd be on the seat for great swaths of time, as I like it.

At one point, noting I was quite cold but not knowing how cold, I got ready to exit for fuel and warm. The exit was presenting as a very long one so rather than slow before the ramp, I lean over and get the angle. Part way up I go to downshift and prepare to brake.

Shyte! No fingers. No movement whatsoever. Either hand. I couldn't begin to engage either lever and the stop at the top was coming on fast. As I continued to try to open my hands, my mind starts flying at a rate to shame a computer. You've all done it, you know this machine gun quick series of alternatives that blast through your mind at the speed of speed:

Lay it down?
Ride it out?
Will cross traffic hit me when I run the stop sign?
What's on the other side?
Do I have a will?
Organ donar? Damn!

Before I get all the way up, I had managed to loosen my right hand enough to slide it off the end of the grip and hammer the kill switch. Then, I hung that near useless claw over the front of the front brake lever and pulled it back.

Yup, you know what came next.

I couldn't really tell how hard I was pulling but did know that this wasn't time for subtlety. Too damn much pressure and I had initiated a counter-steer for a left turn. I got that resolved right quick but for every once of brake pressure I tried to apply, I had to equal it with left-forward-pressure.

Add to this that I was fairly unstable as I had to take my entire right foot off the peg to try to use the rear brake.

My one solid point of contact other than my ass was my left foot and I couldn't much trust that either.

I'd give anything to see a film of me, the idiot, barely not going down, barley not getting bucked off and barely stopping just enough past the stop sign to put me in the cross lane.

Now I have to get a foot down ahead of falling over in front of this car which God alone seems to have protected me from.

Nope, it fell over, I fell over and must have presented a sight. I get up as far as I can stand, my hands are still frozen in GI Joe hand position, bike's on the side and on top of everything else, after the north bound exit ramp (happily facing slanted south) it's icy up top.

Can't feel my feet to stand properly. Knees won't straighten. Can't open my hands to pick up the bike. There I stoop, counting on the forbearance of the other motorists. Nice folk lifted the bike, rolled it to safety and put it on its stand. gave me plenty of time to sit there with my hands to the cylinders, contemplating the nexus of stupidity, luck, observance and good will.

Made for a hell of a Thanksgiving, that!

Todd.

[mwrenn]

It happened too fast to be "horrifying", but I was riding to work in early October about 4 years ago.
It was pretty chilly out so I was bundled up in a leather snowmobile suit and snowmobile helmet.  Two lane country road, 5 am, still dark out, running about 50 mph.  I see a deer about 10 feet ahead of me on the opposite shoulder just as it jumped into my lane.  No time to brake, just a split second to cringe and thump!  When I hit her it knocked out my headlamp, so it was like being caught in an ocean wave at night, pitch black.  Just rumbling and bouncing and bumping, then the sound and feel of gravel rolling under me as I slid down the road.  I heard the bike land off to my right and rev way up before cutting off.
Still dark out, couldn't see a thing, I wiggled my toes, all good, went to sit up and could feel bones crunching in my shoulder.  Thought about trying to walk to a phone, then just laid back and must have passed out.  Woke up and it was starting to get light out, I could see my breath.  Thought that was weird because I had a full face helmet on, but couldn't see the chin piece or visor.  Laid there for a while longer, then heard some traffic and sirens etc...  Woke up in the ER. Had a broken left shoulder and collar bone, bruised lungs, cut up face, and swollen up knees.  My wife came and picked me up about an hour later, so I was very fortunate.  Anyway, here are some pics of my bike...

[ed.bremner]

Yeah, had a few over the years,   thing is most of them happen so fast, you don't really have time to be horrified, at least till afterwards and then as many lucky bikers do, you just try and learn from it, but not dwell too much on it, or you wouldn't get back on again.

but the one that sticks out was much the same as Todd's, @CruzziGuzzi

Riding from Oxford, back into London, years ago as a student.  It was December, and a nice clear night, cold, but not so bad conditions when I started out.  Of course in those days, I would of been wearing not much more than jeans and a leather jacket with maybe a Rukka 'all-in-one' over the top.

I got cold for sure, but decided to soldier on to a regular stopping place.  It felt like I had got used to it, the normal pain in toes and fingers seemed bearable and everything seemed to be working.

But pulled off road, came to a halt (hands working fine) tried to put my foot down. Legs just didnt' move off pegs.  Of course I fell over, with the bike on my leg.  So lying there thinking how to I get out of this....the blood starts moving around and I start to feel really nauseous.  I try to remove my helmet and tight silk balaclava.....but shit, it's really hard to get gloves off and removing helmet impossible.  Now I am really getting a bit scared.  I have to lie there and just concentrate on not throwing up.  In a while the nausea passes, I coax my body back into life and manage to kick out my foot from the bike.  Luckily it was a CB400F1 with the single pipe on the other side.

Always a lot more careful about riding through the pain these days with the cold, but I was young and kinda stupid back then. 

cheers

eib

[Arizona Wayne]

We called them split shifts at West Michigan Public Broadcasting.  The engineer on the M-F rotation worked Mon-Tues 3am-noon, Wed 8a-5p and Thurs-Fri 3p-midnight for three months.  I got home one Monday or Tuesday at noon, crashed into the bed immediately then woke up at 4pm thinking it was the next day and I was late for work.  I was still dressed from the morning shift.

Jumped on the R100RT in a total panic and raced to work breaking every speed limit in Fulton county, only to find it was still the same day and I'd left work a few hours earlier.

Quit that sadistic job and have worked 9-5 ever since.



 

Yes, I found 9-6 was my favorite hours to work.  Traffic was light and I could sleep in. 

[Arizona Wayne]

I don't remember much about it and nothing about the actual crash.  The violence of it seems to have erased some of my memory tapes.  I remember a fraction of a second seeing a deers' head about 12 inches in front of my face.  I remember waking up lying in the road in an awkward position in terrible agony and not able to breathe.  My hand was twisted into a position that I instinctively knew was not possible and I was looking into a tunnel like hole in the hand wondering when the blood would start to come out. I remember trying to do a mind over matter thing to help with the pain but being unable to breathe interfered with that.   Then I remember waking up in darkness in an intensive care unit still in awful pain and still unable to move anything but my left hand.  I was told it was Wed. 10:30 PM.  I had crashed about 9:00 am on sunday.  A few weeks later a deputy told me I was dead when he arrived and showed me photographs.  It had not been a good day,
 I'm glad I don't remember it.  I hope I never repeat it.

It's normal for a person who takes a hard hit like that to have no memory of the actual impact.  All you might remember is just right before it.  I've had the same thing happen to me.

[ohiorider]

One more strange motorcycle adventure from my riding archives ……….   

Late June, early July, 2000.  I’m riding my 9 year old BMW R100GS on River Styx Road in Medina, Ohio.  (what a great name for a road!)  As Chuck Berry sang ‘…. No particular place to go ……’   I arrive at a four way stop, and a large truck with flatbed trailer hauling an asphalt rolling machine decides to go first.  That’s ok, I’m in no rush.

So, I follow at a safe distance, when suddenly, the truck slams on its brakes and comes to a stop.  So do I, at least 50-60 feet behind the trailer/roller combination.  When suddenly, his backup warning beeper kicks in, and he’s backing toward me.  He’s missed his turn.
Now, he doesn’t see me, and this is a rather narrow two lane road.  I beep my ineffective horn, then began shouting ‘stop you SOB!’  All to no avail.

OK, time to abandon ship.  But I can’t get off the conventional left side, because I cannot see around the trailer to determine whether traffic is coming toward me.  What’s worse, having a truck back over you or getting hit by a car running 40mph?

So I quickly slide off the right side of the very tall GS, and even before I had a chance to just drop the bike, the trailer smacks into it, and takes it out of my hands.  Ironically, the front tire gets wedged into a space between the trailer’s ramps, and the bike does not fall over.  Of course, it is in first gear, and the back wheel is hopping up and down as the bike is pushed backwards.  By this time, I’m running alongside the truck, beating on the passenger’s door. Big surprised look on the face of the passenger, and the truck slams to a stop.

The driver is panicked over the fact that he hit a motorcycle, and as he ran around to survey the damage, he says, ‘OMG, it’s a BMW motorcycle.’’

Of course, the bike is beaten pretty badly.  The yellow ‘roo’ bar is bent over the windshield, which is also broken.  The front fender is cracked, the handlebars have slipped in their clamps, so they look like they should be on a café bike.  The little fairing is cracked.
The driver suggested we move the truck and bike out of the road, and that I follow them to their job site a few blocks away.  Nope.  Let’s wait on the cops.  And one did show up.  He obtained ID from all of us except for the truck passenger, who had none, but supplied his SSN.

Policeman says he doesn’t have the proper accident reporting paperwork, so let’s wait for his buddy to arrive.  In a minute or less, an Ohio State Trooper pulls in with his shotgun aimed skyward.  Why?  The truck passenger had an open warrant for a drug related charge in Cuyahoga County.

State Policemen to me.  “You’re lucky we showed up ……. These guys had already changed their story, saying you’d run into them."
Anyway, the story ended with the truck passenger being handcuffed and sitting in the back of the Statie’s car,  my GS was rideable enough to get it to a dealer who really never got the repair done correctly (Jamie at Mathias BMW fixed their screw ups), and 15 years later, I’m still riding the old GS.  She had 60,000 miles showing when this happened ….. her odometer now reads slightly over 146,000 miles.  Hard to kill a good bike!!

[oldbike54]

 Damn Bob , quick reaction . Have had a very similar incident , like it unfolds in slomo .

  Dusty

[old as dirt 2]

every year the same thing happens to me.

I have to put the bikes up for the winter. I get depressed and feel devastated.

[Lannis]

State Policemen to me.  �You�re lucky we showed up ��. These guys had already changed their story, saying you�d run into them."

That's why you always get the police to come, and why you get a lawyer afterward.

It's happened every time with the 4 people that have hit my wife in her car since we've been married.   At the scene, they're all "I'm sorry, I'll make this right, here's my insurance card" blah blah blah blah blah.   Well, it was just an "accident", you figure, don't want to be too hard on the guy (woman).

By the time they've gotten home and their husband, insurance agent, and lawyer has talked to them, they change their story completly, start lying like a big dog, swear through a 9-inch plank that you were acting drunk and hit THEM .....

I'm starting to realize that decent people are seldom the ones causing accidents.

Lannis

[Waltr]

  It was 1978 and I was meeting a couple of friends in Mill Creek Park, Youngstown OH.  I was riding my  new BMW R80/7 with full S trim.  As I pulled into the parking lot I saw them at the other end a fair distance away. I decided I was going to pop a wheelie and ride it a ways to where they were.  I then learned that dry clutches and driveshafts don't lend themselves to such nonsense.  The bike stood straight up and I rose off the pegs to lean forward right when I was straight up the tank hit me in my chest and it seemed I teetered there forever knowing full well my new bike was going over backwards.  It may have just been bum luck but it was not my day to crash my new bike.  My friend John did not recognize it was me and said to Bob: hey look at this A#@ss hole.

[Triple Jim]

I bet you know now, but always have your foot ready on the rear brake pedal if you plan to do a wheelie.   

[oldbike54]

I bet you know now, but always have your foot ready on the rear brake pedal if you plan to do a wheelie.   

 Yeah , and never try to do a donut on a 650 BSA while several young ladies are watching 

  Dusty

[Triple Jim]

There are a lot of things better left untried if young ladies are watching.

[johnr]

There are a lot of things better left untried if young ladies are watching.

  There are indeed!

[oldbike54]

There are indeed!

 Especially when one is new in town 

  Dusty

[dibble]

There are a lot of things better left untried if young ladies are watching.

Just remember to remove your disc lock and you will be fine.............