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Discussion Starter #1
So what was the most intense moment you've ever experienced on a bike? Your heart pounded, came close to wetting yourself, had to lay it down, went 140 on a GSXR, got away from a cop?

What was your most intense moment on any motorcycle?

Mine was probably the first time I ever rode a motorcycle. I dismissed in my head what the clutch was for and I was in first gear going around 30 with no idea how to stop, in the desert, off road, on road, a friend of mine screaming at me "Pull the clutch in!!!!"
Thought I was gonna die.
 

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both involved gravel..

#2 - dang near dropping my bike on the ridiculous gravel uphill getting to the showdown at shady lane last year. stalled it, but managed to keep it rubber side down. still, a flippin' wonderful introduction to a number of VR members! :lol:

#1 - was pulling about 65mph behind a car, and suddenly the driver slammed on her brakes and put on her left turn signal (i had just been about to drop speed, because it looked like i was inching closer to her) in the classic "oh, THERE'S my turn" maneuver. this left me with 6" of pavement between her car and oncoming traffic, and 6" of pavement between her passenger side and the poured gravel shoulder. i grabbed as much brake as i could without locking anything, releasing just as i hit the gravel (still doing 40mph)...felt my rear end swinging in foot-wide arcs as i plowed through that shoulder, holding in the clutch and staring straight ahead with total tunnel vision to try to keep from ending up in the 10' deep ditch on my right, and when i looked back to check for oncoming traffic and rolled back onto the pavement, i only had to step down to 4th gear. i was still doing 37mph...tanker, watching the whole thing from behind me, still can't believe i'm not in pieces strewn along about 50' of that ditch..

cheers!

-mistress k
 

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Probably,

Getting stopped by a cop on real busy street at 4:30 a.m. trying to find all my papers so he could ticket me.

Very unhappy morning...
 

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Riding side-by-side on Harley 165's with a bud, waaaayyy back in high school. We came to a major highway, four-way intersection. The traffic light turned red, I applied the brakes, locked up in loose gravel and slid sideways into the MIDDLE of the intersection, with cars and semis coming at me, back , front, and sides. Scared the hell outta me!!!! :shock: :shock: It's a wonder I wasn't completely chopped and pureed!!!!!
 

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Riding with some OK VR members . Crested a hill ,at the bottom a SUV turned on its left turn signal as a semi toppeed the oppisite hill. I twisted the throttle and as i screamed pass the semi and its blue smoke coming off its tires, the trailer swung into my lane. missed me by 3 foot.

didnt really effect me for another 1/4 mile down the road, then the shaking began. me shaking that is.
 

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Aside from all the near misses, the most intense ride was going about 120mph on a Ninja 250 back when I was about 19. My best friend was riding beside me (or trying to) on my Rebel 450. At that speed all the trees turned into one solid tree. Didnt bother me until I stopped then it scared the living Hell out of me.
 

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short version:

120mph coming into a corner, guy in front of me slowed unexpectedly, and i locked up the rear, grabbed the front brake and brought the rear end up, relaxed and it came down, weighed my choices of taking the inside and crossing double yellow, hitting the slow guy or riding the guardrail. I hit the rail at 60mph and broke the beam, rode it around the curve and finally lost it when the front tire got lost in the gravel. i rolled out, the bike rolled forward. after about 15 min break, and waiting for the oil to drain back in to the bottom of the case, i rode back home.
 

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And now for biker stories from another planet....

It was 1985 and a beautiful day in west central North Carolina. The sun was glowing but not hot and we'd all had the day off from the "Airborne Shuffle" back at Ft. Bragg. we were out on some wonderful, tree lined roads and the twighlight was just starting to creep into the picture.

The road in between Salemburg and Piney Green NC is nothing special, except for the fact that it is perfectly flat and unchanged for app two miles in the middle. This makes conditions perfect for running a measured mile on a motorcycle.

We had been tooling around all day and were taking a nice break in the 5 mile long stand of pines that line the road. I remember it like yesterday,
"Anybody want to run a measured mile?" I instantly chimed in that I couldn't; I rode BMW R75/6 at the time and although a measured mile in the 120's was possible, it just wasn't impressive enough for me to try it. ALong came my good friend Dan, who offered up the services of his juiced Kawi Z-1.

Agreements were made (If I died, Dan got the Beemer as compensation) and Jeff Champeaux (yes, pronounced Shampoo) headed down the road two miles with a pair of Zeiss binoculars, our best stopwatch and a 6 pack of Hamms he pulled from the ice before assuming his post. Dan headed down the road 1 mile to mark the measurement point for the mile... a small crew of locals and other n'er do wells had gathered. It was death time and few people would pass on an opportunity to watch a 20 year old wrap a Kawi around a pine tree, mostlikely tearing himself into a thousand pieces.

I slipped into my jacket, and pulled on my state of the art Bell helmet. The Kawi Z-1 was the first great mid-70's superbike: pure brute power combined with a 1970's breaking system and, well, a seat. No fairing, windshield, or any other amenities but the bike was fast, real fast. I'd been wanting to wind the nasty little bugger out for a year and now I was going to get my chance.

The trick to the measured mile is to take off like a human and then, in third gear, roll off like a bat out of hell and don't let go of the throttle until you're well past the final marker, or until you scatter yoursel all over the road after hitting a patch of pine needles.

The old Kerker exhaust was barking in sync... I knew this was the bike. Click, I slipped the bike into first... it seemed like an eternity to get to second...

The old Z-1 was an unrestricted beast, built up by a serious Danger junkie (Dan was killed in Angola later, it never got too fast for him.) Root Beer and orange...

Third gear was 80 and I plunged into the pool, laying down on the bike and working through the last two gears in less than two seconds, through the quarter close to a hundred, after that, anyone who says they look at their speedo is either a fool or a liar. I focused straight ahead, moving the head from side to side became impossible and all the blood drained from my face... the tunnelvision set in, faster.

It was over before it started, at basically 138 miles an hour. its still never gotten that fast again for me and thrill of doing it on a naked bike still perks up my ears and makes my olfactory system trigger the scent of pine and lightly burning motor oil.

Some of the locals were dumbstruck, I went back to the 1st mile to retrieve my staid, dignified beemer and was greeted by a man with a quart mason jar. "Mister, I ain't never seen someone go that fast on no bike." We shared and rode back triumphantly to Smoke Bomb Hill. For a moment we were the fastest men alive, the kings of the highway, road people. No cops, noone got Killt and all the equipment was in one piece.

It was the best day I've ever had on two wheels.
 

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This happened back around 1974 or 75. I was about 15 and I had a shiny red Honda CR250 Elsinore. I had been riding in a gully near my house and was on my way home. It was a weekday in the late afternoon. I had to pass an elementary school and thought it would be fun to ride on the grass behind the school, which was fairly common. Lots of donut tracks semi-permanently burned into the grass. The school sat on a big lot and on the west side of the school was this huge expanse of grass, at least a quarter-mile long, if not longer. The school was on a hill and this grass was terraced every 75-100 yards, hence the attraction to dirt bike riders, you could catch decent air off the terraces.

So I was having a blast, tearing up the turf with the big rear knobby. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flashing red and blue lights of a sheriff's cruiser who had driven around the back of the school on the playground. The deputy was waving at me, trying to get me to come to him (right...). While there were many ways to get out of the grass area near the school, that would have taken me too close to Johnny Law than I cared to be. I decided to make a break for the gate on the west end, where there was about a 3-foot wide gate and a road for my getaway. I sucked it up and took off for the gate, and I looked back and saw the deputy was driving out of the playground, presumably to head me off. On surface streets, he had a lot farther to go than I did. I was maybe 100 feet from the gate and another sheriff's cruiser pulled up just beyond it. I put my foot down and spun the bike around and took off towards the school, full wide open, just wailing on it. The first car was nowhere in sight and I went across the asphalt playground and headed for the lawn in front of the school. The front lawn had a deep, slope that was about 12 feet below street level, I hit that hill and as I crested the top, I jumped about 30 feet, cleared the sidewalk and half the road in front of the school. I headed up the first street I came to and found somebody I knew from school who was shooting baskets in his driveway. I asked him if I could stash the bike in his garage for awhile and he agreed. He and I were playing basketball as sheriff's cars cruised the streets. When I figured the coast was clear, I pushed the bike home. If my dad had found out what I was up to, he would have sold the bike the next day.
 

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It was summer tourist season around here, and the roads were packed with campers, trucks, RVs and, of course, drunken maniacs.

We were coming down off of one of the Cascade mountain passes in the late afternoon. It's a two-lane highway with a posted speed of 55, but everyone wants to do 70. I had a guy riding my tail, and had decided to pull over at the next opportunity to let him pass. But pullouts on this section of road are few and far between.

Suddenly, the cars on the opposite lane started flashing their lights and motioning with their hands to 'slow down'. I figured there was a State Patrol just around that blind curve up ahead so I backed of the throttle a bit, (which caused the guy behind me to get even closer), and entered the curve.

That's when I saw a guy like this standing in my lane, with his lovely harem on the shoulder.



The oncoming lane was full of traffic, so I had no option of going to the left.

I shed as much speed as I could, and did that wonderful 'panic swerve' they taught us in the MSC. Luckily, the bull or the rest of the heard decided to watch me go by instead of bolting, and I threaded between them close enough I could have touched the bull's azz had I not been busy trying to control my bladder at the moment.

I heard the guy behind me lock his brakes. I'm glad that he wasn't in front.

We pulled over at the first opportunity, (about a mile down the road), and shook for a bit.

Someone was watching out for us that day.
 

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Well gee - mine kinda pales in comparison.....but here it is. I was 18 years old, just out of high school, and riding a honda cb500t. Went to a party north of my hometown - in a forest preserve......so you can probably guess where this is going. I had a great time giving all the girls rides on my bike that night - but around 1 am - everyone decided that maybe we'd better leave before the park ranger came back around. A buddy of mine was too drunk to drive, so I offered to let him stay at my place for the night, then bring him back to his car in the morning.

So here we are - riding two up, with a cooler of beer on his lap - cuz ya know - that's like GOLD to an underage drinker - we couldn't just leave it behind. We're rounding a corner, climbing a hill.....about a mile from home, when a deer jumps out - over the guard rail and into my lane. I was able to slow down enough to not hit her - but she didn't cross. She just stood there......then as we came up beside her, started running next to us. I honked the horn hoping she'd go back over the rail.....but she just stayed beside us. So in all my 18 year old wisdom - rather than just stopping the damned bike - decided to just roll the throttle and get ahead of her.

She kept pace with me. FINALLY - she turned.....and rammed into our right side - hitting my buddy on the shin, and sending us in to a bit of a fishtail.....but I was still accelerating and managed to pull it out and continued on our way. This all happend over the course of about 4 seconds......but it seemed like an eternity. Amazing how much can go through your head in such a short time.

The next day I told another friend about it......and of course he didn't believe me.......until the guy with the big bruise on his leg confirmed the story. I was pretty hot sh!t with all the guys for a week or two. How quickly they forget. lol
 

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Back about 1981 going south on the pig trail (hwy23) doing about 50mph in a corner and in my lane a car had stoped to turn left waiting for so north bound traffic. So thing in my head get going off on what to do.No way am I going to be able to stop so, take a deep ditch on the right with barbwire fence,hit the stoped car turning left or split the stoped car and the head on traffic. So in a split second I put the tires inbetween the double yellow line and split the cars! Talk a ass pucker :shock: hope I don't have to make that decission ever again. Funny how many thing can run through your mind in a split second.
 

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You ask for it.

I was about 16 years old riding a 305 Honda Super Hawk. My brother and I were going down an old gravel road side by side. I decided to show off a little and opened my bike up. I was doing about 60mph and coming up on a slow left hand curve. Just as I started to ease up on the gas a Farm Truck came around the curve going almost as fast as I was. Now if you know gravel roads, you know there isn't enough room for us both. I turned hard right toward a garage drive and some tall weeds. The front tire hit something and I was air born. I was headed through the air toward two old men standing in their front yard talking. You never saw two 70+ year old men move any faster. I missed them and laid it down in the grass. After checking them, and the bike for damage. I went back to where I went through the tall weeds to see what sent me skyward. It was a stack of fence posts. Now the scary part. parked in front of the posts on the right was a set of 16" plows on their side points toward the way I came. On the other side was a set of discs. The space open between the two was only wide enough for the bike to pass with a few inches to spare. It was half an hour before I stopped shaking.
 

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Working the night shift (got off at midnight) and headed home on my trusty 850 Norton Commando. It was wet and semi cold, doing about 55 mph when a car pulled out in front of me from the right. I hit the brakes and the rear end started coming around to the right, I steered into the skid and cleared the car but knew that I couldn't let go of the brake or I'd "high side". Held it upright somehow and stopped about 2 feet short of a curb. Had to sit there for awhile and calm down before continuing the ride home. The bike was my primary mode of transport but I was a paranoid biker for awhile.
 

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The Fly Boys

30 some years ago I used to ride dirt bikes at a big constrution site close to my parents home with a buddy Butch.

Butch had a CR500 which was and is probably one of the cruelest bad ass bikes made. It would hurt you and laugh. I had a elisnore 250 which was beat to crap but ran like a scaled dog. Well for me then : )

Anyway, as usual I was chasing Butch, and he climbed this big hill and disappeared over the top. I was fast on his heels.

What we didn't know was the construction guys removed the other side of the hill!!!

So as I am flyen through the air, I see my bud and his bike below.....stuck in we mud.

Not much to do so I tried to get off to the side a little and braced for impact. My bike's tire hit his back tire and kind of bounced back.

We laid in the mud and after a minute or so just laughed our asses off.

:lol: :lol: :lol:

RIP Butchy
 
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