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You gotta have faith!
George Michael ?Quote:
Originally Posted by BB
So, fingertips are the next "must touch down round a corner" part of the anatomy...
Quote:
Originally Posted by Scotty
Saves filing them I s'pose. lol
I'd have bit them to the bone before i'd got on the bike knowing that was coming :eek::eek:Quote:
Originally Posted by BB
To be honest, I'd be the same! ;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Last Train
Prompted memories of pillion rides I've had and made me think that although my wife rides pillion with me quite a lot (mainly on our Enfield tea & cake potter through the countryside rides) I have very rarely travelled as a pillion and certainly not since I was a yoof. Used to ride pillion on my Dads various bikes quite a bit as kid then the odd trip on the back of mates bikes either when to drunk to ride (which was verrrryyy drunk) or when my bike was blown up or in the middle of crash repairs - which was quite a lot, I had 2 strokes with all the 'improvements' you could do in the shed!
Most of my pillion rides with mates were scary as a) we were usually trying to keep up with some maniac who was one up b) it always seemed to be the mate who most wanted to show of how quick they were who offered the pillion seat. Three pillion tales that stand out:
1. There were about half a dozen of us that hung about on bikes regularly, nearly all with LC's, me with an X7 and one mate who was a couple of years older with a GT380 triple with the Rickman bodykit (fairing got destroyed in earlier big off) and he was always desperate to show how his old school stroker had the legs on our 'modern' 250's, which of course it didn't ... or the brakes, or the handling or anything really apart from the sound. Anyhoo my X7 had been remodelled a bit by sliding across a muddy airfield the weekend before so I was sans bike, Nick was (is, he's still alive!) about 4 inches shorter than me and had drop bars on the GT so I'm left sticking out like modern gixer pillion with only the sharp edges of the Rickman fibreglass body kit to hang onto as we hurtled around the wooded lanes and curves of our favourite roads between pubs and discos for one weekend. I actually walked home about eight miles on the Saturday night rather than risk a night time lift home, didn't think I would have any fingers left even if I did make it home!
2. Can't remember why I was without a bike this time but recall getting a lift from one pub to another on the back of a XS250 that belonged to a gribley (anyone remember them?) mate who usually hung around with the cut off boys. He was, by the low standards we set, a pretty steady rider and the XS was dog slow with a big pillion perch so I thought I would be okay but the kn*b left the side stand down and the first left hander saw it dig in, he hit the brakes and we straightened up, across the verge and into ditch. He cracks his nuts on the tank, I fly over him and into the hedge. Fortunately, although the corner was one of our favourites, and usually a 70mph peg scraper, XS mate was going a heck of a lot slower and by the time we scrubbed off speed and bounced across the verge we were probably only doing 10/20mph so light bruises for me, a few scratches for the XS but very painful nuts for XS mate, I had to ride his bike back with him as pillion as he was in so much pain : {
3. Not one ride but recalling how my wife (then girlfriend) used to ride pillion on one of the worst pillion bikes of all time, my PE400X. Seat was of the shorty enduro type so not really room for two, pillion pegs were those clip on to swing arm ones you could get back then, loose fitting and moved up and down with the swingarm (which is a lot on PE!), dirty great chain flapping about by her toes and the clutch was of the on/off variety and the bike didn't like ticking over or pulling just off the throttle. Fine when one up as blipping the throttle all the time and monster wheelies away from every junction possible was of course one of the main reasons for owning it, less so when trying to transport the future mother of your children around in a manner which didn't see her sat on her backside. She still has fond memories of that bike though, Saturday morning through town certainly had everyone looking at us, back then we thought we were 'cool', now the wrong side of 50 I would tut tut at similar behaviour and shake my head in despair at the mindless yoof - damn I've got old : (
Iv been pillion maybe a dozen times in my life and hated every time. Most memorable (and last time) was on the back of my older brothers fazer coming down the M5, we were pulling about 120 and I’m sat on the back pretty protected from the wind by him, he then leans right over the tank pulling himself forward to get comfortable meaning I go from hardly any wind to the full force of it, I very (as in VERY) nearly went right of the back and both feet left the footpegs, I genuinely think the only thing that kept my on the bike was my arsecheeks clenching and gripping the seat. Iv not been pillion since and would rather walk than do so.
oh and just remembered a ride from burbage to pewsey on a mates c90 with 4 of us on the bike, that was an experience not to be repeated.
I'm not a fan of pillion either. Is it because as you age you become more of a control freak or less of a gambler ? Who knows.
Back in my youth, a group of us we're hanging about at the local portway play park. Doing lots & lots of nothing. Someone had the idea of seeing how quick we could neck a boxed 12 pack of hofmeister. Remember them ? So off we went to procure said beverage. Ive no idea why but I was on the back of my mate's YPVS F2. On the way back to the swings, We rode the whole length of Portway on one wheel, he could pull a great wheelie, with me, white fingered, holding on to his jacket with one hand & the beers with the other, with equal gusto. All the while laughing hysterically.
The beers were shyte & his enthusiasm cost him dear a few months later.
These days I get nervous in the passenger seat of a car...
Nutters, the lot of you, or should that be the lot of us!
I suspect it’s probably the latter :rolleyes:Quote:
Originally Posted by BB
I suspect you are correct :)Quote:
Originally Posted by Badger-Roy
Back in the day , I was always on the back of my dads bikes, a BSA 650 goldflash complete with Watsonian sidecar and a 350 '59 AJS. I was so young at the time I couldnt even reach the footpegs, not that was a problem in the 1970's. Also used to go pillion on my mates ypvs 350 and cbr 600, the ypvs had been sent off to the ledgendary Stan Stephens for a stage 2 tune, and it was insane. I remember racing against another yper along the a38 heading out of Filton, absolutely flat to the stop, both 2 up, wasnt you was it Kev? :)
I wonder if it is a case of the older we get the faster we were but I recall a conversation with a good mate of mine on one of our trips to France a few years back (he had a 916, I had the same GSXR1100K I've still got now) about whether we could keep up with our then 18-22 year selfs on their LC's with us on our 916 & gixxer? Sure the 'modern' bikes were wayyyy quicker, better handling & brakes and we were much more experienced (he won the Yam Past Masters proddy challenge cup about 4 years ago, me not quite as quick :rolleyes: ) but, on the roads we rode back then the LC's were king and we were insanely stupid so it would be a close thing. I know for sure I wouldn't want to try and keep up now!Quote:
Originally Posted by Wes
My bro is 5 yrs older than me. He had a bike at 16 going into 6th form just as I was starting at the same school. It was 4 miles from home. Went on the back of him regularly, giving the hand signals (both types !). His first job was in the lab of a paint firm just ½ mile from the school. so it continued a while longer. I recall coming home one evening on a steady RH curve. Suddenly his body went vertical whilst the bike stayed banked. Then I saw the bollard in the middle of the road coming at my head.
That could explain a lot! :D:DQuote:
Originally Posted by Burbler
A couple of reminiscences;
1. One Sunday afternoon I was out on my z650 in Northampton with my mate Steve on his 350LC, and we had a couple of friends with us: Dave on my pillion and his wife Deb on the back of Steve. We were making progress around the ring road and arrived at the Upton Way roundabout and were turning right off it.... There was no traffic so Steve pitched the LC onto its side and flew round it (it's quite a big roundabout so a good speed can be maintained). Back in those days (1982) ones rate of progress was marked by how much of the bike could be dragged found corners - even most racers hadn't started knee-dragging by that time. Until that day I'd only ever touched the right-hand crash bars on my z down once, briefly. I was determined that Steve wasn't going to get away, resulting in my right-hand crash bar getting some sustained contact with the tarmac, until it levered the front tyre off the ground and down we went.... Although neither of us was really hurt, Dave wasn't impressed with the hole in the knee of his brand new Levi's...
2. From 1986 until 1992 a bunch of us made a pilgrimage every spring to Les 24 Heures du Mans (bikes, not cars) but in March 1990 I had an RTC resulting in a written-off EXUP and a broken arm and dislocated wrist. That year's Le Mans trip looked to be off for me until my mate Speaky offered to take me on the back of his new CBR1000F. I was made up not to miss out and the CBR was quite comfy, certainly better than the Genesis he'd had previously. All was fine until the return trip, which unusually that year we had to make via Cherbourg instead of the usual Le Havre - I believe it was because Superbike mag were doing a promotion and had block-booked the Sunday night Le Havre boat for their readers so we couldn't take it and had to head to Cherbourg instead. Heading up the peninsula towards the port there is a long-ish bit of dual cabbageway and as we were on a bunch of big-bore sports bikes they were naturally caned along there, and I mean properly caned as in chins on the tank, flat-out in top type stuff. Speaky was matching the other bikes and we were both hunched-down to escape the 160-odd mph wind blast... Only my left arm was in plaster so I could only hang on with my right arm, and I could feel the wind blast inching me back along the seat despite my best one-armed limpet impression. I closed my eyes and hung on as hard as I could, and it seemed like forever before they rolled off back to a relatively sedate 110mph. Not an experience that I'd recommend when unable to hang onto anything properly....