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Post by domindart on Apr 17, 2013 1:55:06 GMT -5
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Post by teddy554 on Apr 17, 2013 6:23:37 GMT -5
She was lucky she had that backpack on
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Post by triker on Apr 17, 2013 9:53:39 GMT -5
Wow, Hope she didn't get hurt to bad. Back when I was 11 My brother had a Kawasaki 250. We rod up to the mail box, and on the way back He scooted back on the seat and forced me off the back. I grabbed onto the tail light to keep from falling off. And I quickly realized that wasn't the smartest thing to do, as the knobby tire was playing havoc with the family jewels. I let go real quick and slid off the back and down the dirt road on my chest. My brother didn't even stop. I was in some pain and had to walk the mile back home.
Roy
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Post by mclovin on Apr 17, 2013 13:34:05 GMT -5
Back in '  , I was fresh out of the US Army (Infantry) and my younger brother was getting ready to enlist as an airborne MP. I helped him buy a used Ninja 600 so he could have some fun while he still had freedom, and one weekend we rode it out to a party at another end of town. On the way back, on the final one-kilometer stretch before arriving at the family compound, we noticed Baja Judicial Police plainclothes thugs operating a checkpoint for some unclear purpose (most likely to collect bribes to fund a Saturday night on the town). I was in the back wearing a very nice backpack I'd bought in Germany. One of the two cops addressed us in English as my brother was coming to a stop (odd, since our parents are Highland Mexicans, though we have light-colored eyes). When he said, "Papers," I automatically reached into my rear pants pocket to retrieve my US passport. At the same time, my brother yelled, "Hold on!" pulled a wheelie, and took off. I, of course, was not holding on since my hands were at that moment fumbling around my backside. I fell off the back and a strap on the backpack got caught on a part of the bike and dragged me face down for a short distance before breaking loose, tearing away from my back, and getting mangled - along with its contents - by the rear tire. Totally unexpected, but I had the presence of mind (that good Army training, boy!) to think, "They're gonna shoot 'im!" I leaped to my feet yelling, " ¡No disparen!" (Don't shoot!) I saw that both cops had already drawn and trained their semiautomatic pistols on my brother at close range. Apparently, dragging me behind, followed by my backpack getting caught in the rear tire, had slowed him down considerably. For some reason, both cops, at the sound of my voice, looked back in my direction and lowered their pistols long enough for him to muster the bike's crazy speed and quickly disappear down the boulevard in the direction of our house. With their target long gone, the cops focused their attention on me. "Why did he take off?" "What was in the pack?" "Where did he go?" With all of my bewilderment and my head still spinning, I only managed to say that he went to la casa - our house. "What's the address?" they demanded. I replied, truthfully, that the house didn't have a number. "Oh, yeah? Well, we're going to beat it out of you!" and proceeded to perform the Rodney King Salsa. Before any blows actually landed, however, my youngest bro' - skinny, scared, and only sixteen - pulled up on the opposite lane and called out to me in English, "What happened, man?" He had witnessed our fugitive sibling speeding onto the driveway and yelling that the cops had me back at the Red Cross building. Without hesitation, he jumped into the family's station wagon and sped to the site. When he arrived and called out to me - and I yelled at him to go away - the cops then turned on him and said, "Is this him?" and instantly yanked him out of the car and pressed a shotgun barrel against the side of his head as he cowered in confusion and fear. I said, "No! That's my other brother!" and they reluctantly let him go. In the meantime, plenty of passersby had started gawking and the cops changed their plan. They took me into the Red Cross building and had the duty nurse look me over to determine if I was fit for incarceration. My wrists and knees were pretty torn up from getting dragged, but the polite lady promptly and cheerfully cleared me and told Bizarro Friday and Gannon that they could take me away. While all of this was happening, my mom and dad were beginning a visit to a friend's house in a nearby neighborhood. The friend was just putting tea on when my mom was suddenly overcome with a terrible feeling. She said to my dad, "Ruben! We have to go home right now!" My dad confusedly muttered, "What?" and she repeated her demand. My dad, after chiding her for her impoliteness, quickly gave in at the sight of her alarming earnestness. He made a quick apology to their hostess and they hurried home forthwith. They pulled into the driveway just in time to see their biker son hurrying out with my dad's Colt .38 Special Detective in hand yelling that the cops had me and he had to go rescue me (misguided hooah). The impromptu mission's fate was sealed by my dad's Chrysler Cordoba, which was in the Ninja's way and foiled any chance for a speedy liftoff. They wrested the revolver from their defeated son and quickly debriefed him.* They very prudently opted for the diplomatic route and called on their compadres, a magistrate and an influential lawyer, to secure my release. That was swiftly carried out to the sound of sickening, all-around back-slapping hearty laughter from the cops, lawyers, and my dad - much to the home-of-the-brave annoyance of my brothers and me. ( All a misunderstanding, blah, blah, blah.) My brother wasn't charged. He later explained that since he had just bought the bike and hadn't gone to the (California) DMV to complete the transaction, he was afraid that the cops would use that as a pretext to confiscate it (read: outright steal it). He was probably right, but he didn't count on our dad's powerful friends. Anyway, that's the memory the video brought back. * Years later, after he left the service, he finally got his chance to rescue the family with that revolver, and once again, I was the one who took the heat - but that's a story for another day. |
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Post by spandi on Apr 17, 2013 17:52:33 GMT -5
Yet another reason the exposed tire look is not a good idea.
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Post by domindart on Apr 17, 2013 20:20:59 GMT -5
Must've burned the poor girl's kooch D8
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Post by prodigit on Apr 17, 2013 21:28:59 GMT -5
I can see the headlines, if this ever was getting into the papers: - Girl loses virginity by motorcycle - Veggie burger split open 'till navel? or - New braking system! Bum brakes better than brake pads, no replacement parts necessary anymore!  LOL.. Poor girl, Dumb dude, who has a dumb motorcycle, asking for dumb problems! First, no sissy bars, second wheel behind the rear fender (soon to become illegal everywhere), third, accelerating like a nut so girl will slide off! Shame on him! If that would ever happen to my girl, I would feel so, so bad! I won't even ride with her if she's not properly dressed up in attire (helmet, gloves)... Man, the last thing I want to see, is being responsible for my girl's accident, or death! Guy must be a super jerk, and dumb-@ss-h0le, not to see that! |
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Post by domindart on Apr 17, 2013 21:57:34 GMT -5
LOL
I ve seen lots of bikes like that... not something thats going to change unless its illegal...
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Post by prodigit on Apr 17, 2013 22:59:39 GMT -5
Give it a few more accidents, and it will.
In many countries it's illegal to ride a bigfoot, or a car with 20+ in rims, because your bumper will go higher; and if your bumper goes higher, that means if you hit a pedestrian, they will slide under the car, instead of above.
Just like in many places riding with high beam headlights on; or even riding a car that has sharp corners due to too deep dents, or missing parts (eg: bumper or hood, or sidepanel, or headlight compartment was damaged or went missing due to a crash, in many countries you can't ride until you fix it, save you'll hurt someone else in an accident more than when your car's body panels would have been smooth or rounded off).
Oh, like pins sticking out of rims, what you see in a lot of trucks, is illegal too in many countries!
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Sophomore Rider
Currently Offline
Posts: 117
Likes: 9
Joined: Apr 5, 2013 0:43:47 GMT -5
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Post by bvance554 on Apr 17, 2013 23:08:09 GMT -5
Ouch!!! Anal rape!
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Post by domindart on Apr 17, 2013 23:47:04 GMT -5
I'm glad I live in GA in the great ol' USA where I can do most anything and get away with it lmao |
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Post by spunn on Feb 3, 2014 15:23:15 GMT -5
Not a nice way to start your ride
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Post by Paladin on Feb 3, 2014 18:22:45 GMT -5
Bad Driver. Bad Pillion. Not my problem!  My rules: you wrap your arms around me, you paste yourself to me. If I cannot feel your nipples in my back we do not ride. Which is why I do not give rides to guys. The girl was loose, not holding the driver. Stupid hurts. |
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Post by spunn on Feb 4, 2014 0:27:49 GMT -5
can't feel your nipples!
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Post by justbuggin2 on Feb 4, 2014 0:50:07 GMT -5
saw this before total stupidity on her and his part
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, I was fresh out of the US Army (Infantry) and my younger brother was getting ready to enlist as an airborne MP. I helped him buy a used Ninja 600 so he could have some fun while he still had freedom, and one weekend we rode it out to a party at another end of town. On the way back, on the final one-kilometer stretch before arriving at the family compound, we noticed Baja Judicial Police plainclothes thugs operating a checkpoint for some unclear purpose (most likely to collect bribes to fund a Saturday night on the town). I was in the back wearing a very nice backpack I'd bought in Germany. One of the two cops addressed us in English as my brother was coming to a stop (odd, since our parents are Highland Mexicans, though we have light-colored eyes). When he said, "Papers," I automatically reached into my rear pants pocket to retrieve my US passport. At the same time, my brother yelled, "Hold on!" pulled a wheelie, and took off. I, of course, was not holding on since my hands were at that moment fumbling around my backside. I fell off the back and a strap on the backpack got caught on a part of the bike and dragged me face down for a short distance before breaking loose, tearing away from my back, and getting mangled - along with its contents - by the rear tire. Totally unexpected, but I had the presence of mind (that good Army training, boy!) to think, "They're gonna shoot 'im!" I leaped to my feet yelling, "¡No disparen!" (Don't shoot!) I saw that both cops had already drawn and trained their semiautomatic pistols on my brother at close range. Apparently, dragging me behind, followed by my backpack getting caught in the rear tire, had slowed him down considerably. For some reason, both cops, at the sound of my voice, looked back in my direction and lowered their pistols long enough for him to muster the bike's crazy speed and quickly disappear down the boulevard in the direction of our house. 
