What’s your craziest crash in a vehicle story?

[BULL]

I knew it was in that 83-86 year range. I had an 88 XR7 5.0. I loved that car and kept it until 2004. I wish I still had it.

This was not long after I originally bought it.

View attachment 20880

I followed the Cougar up with a '88 T-Bird Turbocoupe 2.3L 5sp

My fastest speeding ticket to date was in that T-Bird (120mph and he was "being generous" as I recall him saying)

 

[Stormtrooper1320]

I followed the Cougar up with a '88 T-Bird Turbocoupe 2.3L 5sp

My fastest speeding ticket to date was in that T-Bird (120mph and he was "being generous" as I recall him saying)

That was my favorite year Turbocoupe, and they ran real well for that size of car and being a 4 cyl.

 

[BULL]

That was my favorite year Turbocoupe, and they ran real well for that size of car and being a 4 cyl.

The 2.3L without the turbo was a dog, but that car was amazingly fast for what it was.


I also got pulled over by a bike cop in that car after running this elevated highway transition at well over 100mph every night on the way home from McDonnell Douglas in Long Beach to Riverside:



He comes up along side me (and my boss who was in the car as well), demands my license, looks at it for two seconds and whips them back at my face, playing card style and screams at me, "Quit driving like an asshole!" 'Gets back on his bike and leaves.

My boss's jaw hit the ground...

 

[stonewall]

I had a nice 1988 Yamaha VMax that was only a few months old. I was coming home from work one night about midnight and had taken the beach road (Ocean Ave for those that are familiar with West Haven, CT), and had just come around to the blind side of a nice curve in the road......only to find out that the City had been laying in new sewer lines and had the road torn up. They must have been near ready to repave the road because all of the manhole covers were sitting on nice, new concrete collars above the gravel road bed. I dodged most of them, but not all. The front wheel of the bike glanced off the side of the last collar that I was trying to avoid. The handlebars were immediately ripped from my hands and the next thing I know.....I was airborne. It all seemed to go by in slow motion. I could see the bike sliding past me in a shower of sparks as it had landed back on the asphalt by this time. I could see me flying through the air. I could see the asphalt coming up for me. All I could think of was that scene from the first Mad Max movie where the one biker flies off his bike and is bouncing and rolling around on the street and the bike comes up from behind and takes him out. Fortunately that didn't happen to me. I hit the ground and rolled around a bit and finally stopped flat on my back. I remember laying there wondering if I was gonna be paralyzed, when my roommate....who had been following behind me on his Yamaha XS1100.....came up and kicks me in the foot and asks if I'm ok. I say that I think I am but not sure, to which he says that what happened to me was both the scariest thing he has ever seen on a motorcycle.....and the coolest. He helped me get the two blocks to our place and then he had some guys we worked with go and get my bike for me and bring it home. While he did that, I took myself to the hospital.I walked into the place and the lady at the counter asks if she can help me. I tell her that I've been in a motorcycle accident. She looks me over and says that I don't look bad and that she thinks I'm ok. I stepped around the counter and opened the torn knee areas of my jeans and tell her to take a look at this. She went a little pale and started screaming for an orderly and the doctor. I got some pretty good injuries to my knees that took quite a few stitches to close back up, road rash on my forearms, and a section of my stomach where my jacket pushed up. I spent two weeks mostly lying around using crutches when I needed to hobble around. My boss wouldn't let me come back to work until I could walk without the crutches. I was on flight crew then, and when I went back to work, had to get a return to work physical and cleared to fly again. The night I went back, I had wrapped my knees up with those really long ace bandages and duct taped the hell out of them. When I pulled my pants down, the doc asked what the hell was going on. I told him that I was in a motorcycle accident and had just had the stitches taken out and since I would be climbing on and off of helicopters I didn't want to bump my knees and hurt them. I then told him I could take all the tape and bandages off...thankfully he declined and then signed my paperwork. My boss wouldn't let me fly for another two weeks, and he made me do admin stuff during that time. I was ok with that. I got the bike fixed and rode it for another 5 years of so.

This isn't mine but this was what I had.
View attachment 20870

Vmax is an awesome machine

 

[Beast707]

Damn! Some scary stories and lucky fellas in this group!

 

[Stormtrooper1320]

Vmax is an awesome machine

Yeah.....that thing was super fast in a straight line.....but don't try to lean it into a turn at speed.

I used to tell people it was like riding a rocket powered steer.

 

[ChargerChallenger]

Yeah.....that thing was super fast in a straight line.....but don't try to lean it into a turn at speed.

I used to tell people it was like riding a rocket powered steer.

I came so close to buying a 1992 VMsx and I grew up riding Yamahas and had the YZ80 then YZ125. In 1981 my parents let me ride a Yamaha Maxim 550 to school. I have really cool parents which even today I’m amazed they let me do that. Anyways my first wife went me to the Yamaha Dealer. It was a Friday evening and I was approved for the loan and told them I’ll be back in the morning and pick her up. Took the wife to dinner and the following morning my wife insisted I do not get the bike. She had a bad dream that I died on the bike. So I passed the deal and damn it was 20 years later before my second wife would let me get another street bike. In 2004 I came close to picking up a Harley but my wife was pregnant and she was like gee why didn’t you tell me before I got pregnant so no you can’t have one. I didn’t argue and knew I’d eventually have one again. And I already owned dirt bikes and 4 wheelers so I was riding anyways. Great stories and of course some are not here to tell their stories but only read about them in the Obituaries.

 

[Stormtrooper1320]

The 2.3L without the turbo was a dog, but that car was amazingly fast for what it was.


I also got pulled over by a bike cop in that car after running this elevated highway transition at well over 100mph every night on the way home from McDonnell Douglas in Long Beach to Riverside:

View attachment 20881

He comes up along side me (and my boss who was in the car as well), demands my license, looks at it for two seconds and whips them back at my face, playing card style and screams at me, "Quit driving like an asshole!" 'Gets back on his bike and leaves.

My boss's jaw hit the ground...

Oh man....SoCal has a lot of those awesome transition roads where you can just hang it out and hold on. They're so much fun with a car that handles well.

 

[Stormtrooper1320]

Damn! Some scary stories and lucky fellas in this group!

Oh yeah....for sure.

I got lucky that when I flew off of my bike that it was late on a week night......I landed in the middle of the oncoming lane. If that had happened to me on that road during the middle of the day, I would've gone right into the front end of something coming the other way. No telling how that would've turned out.

 

[stonewall]

Yeah.....that thing was super fast in a straight line.....but don't try to lean it into a turn at speed.

I used to tell people it was like riding a rocket powered steer.

This is what I like to take the curves with. As long as the gravel stays away! LOL

 

[ChargerChallenger]

This is what I like to take the curves with. As long as the gravel stays away! LOL View attachment 20889

Those bikes are wicked fast and the running joke up north here is many riders think their expert riders till the find the curves and their laying in the woods and or on the road.

 

[Stormtrooper1320]

Those bikes are wicked fast and the running joke up north here is many riders think their expert riders till the find the curves and their laying in the woods and or on the road.

It's funny you say that because when I was getting my bike fixed, I actually got a job at this place called "Cycle Salvage". I took the job to work off the bill for fixing my bike. My job was to tear wrecked bikes apart for the parts, and to go and pick up wrecked bikes and bring them back to the shop. This was late 80's so all of those cool sport bikes were out then....Ninjas, FZR's, GSXR's, Katanas, etc. It was common for me to pick up bikes that were pretty new and had less than 2k miles on them. One side of the bike would be mint, the other side was all ground down from sliding down the various Connecticut interstates at 130+ mph. A new rider and his money are soon parted sometimes.

 

[Magnified]

I was ALMOST one of those cars that you occasionally see that goes off the edge of PCH and lands in the water down below, way down, way way way down below...


My cousin invited me up to visit her in Monterey while she was in the Army's language training center, I was in the USMC stationed down at Tustin (CA). So I made the drive up to see her. We were looking for something to do and she said, let's go drive "PCH". I said, "What's PCH?" To which I get the "It's this really fun road to drive fast on."

Let's go!

So there I am, very late at night (completely dark) driving very hard on this fun little road. I didn't have a REAL sense for what I was on. The cliffs on one side were obvious, the guard rails (in some spots) on the other side were as well. To say that I didn't have a good understanding of where I was at is an understatement??? But as much as anything, I was focused on the turns....

The turns....

Anybody know PCH well?

Anybody know how much of a driver I wasn't when I was 19-20?


U.S. Marine, young, dumb and full of... Lots and lots of testosterone?


The turns...


Didn't make one, understeer, sliding towards the outside, and then for whatever reason decide to make a correction to the inside...

End up in one of the very few soft spots on the inside, cliff-side, high centered on one of the very few spots of dirt... PCH anyone?


Go find a ROCK, place it under the rear-right drive wheel and proceed to kick it in hard enough to shatter my ankle, but still kept kicking it in.

This was enough to launch off of the dirt mound that was high centering the car and drive up through the ditch.

My cousin gets back in the car (she's still white as a ghost, I'm still not understanding why at this point???)

We drive off just as LEO's are arriving, but in enough time that it's not apparent that we were the ones that had driven off of the road.


========



The next day (and after an explanation from my cousin as to why she's freaked out more than what seemed reasonable given the circumstances) we go back and looked at what we DIDN'T do...


PCH anyone???



View attachment 20876
(Just an example image I quickly found, I don't know exactly where we almost died....)


I have this and another story (amongst many other car-near death stories) from my youth/car days that's very different, but just as bad (and the car was absolutely totaled) that to this day makes me wonder how in the hell I'm alive. Flying as a Crewchief makes you numb to a lot of risk, and I lived on the edge for a very long time. Sometimes it's why I think I still like VMax like the Standing Mile, maximum energy, maximum risk, maximum death potential. Never lift!


Pictures from the same car, end of its life. It's why I hate drunk driving. The second story referenced above, same car.

View attachment 20877

I know PCH. Glad you're still here man

 

[Hickster]

Back in the early 80's, leaving the club house around 2 am had to work on Monday. Club house was out in the country with about 1.5 miles of 2 ways straight road, good asphalt, then comes to a 45 degree bridge left turn. Concrete or a dirt gravel road for the train engineers used to work on the bridge. At 2 am feeling good got 15 minutes from home, got on the stretched out Harley and hit it hard. Well, back then choppers did not have front brakes cause of the chrome rocker arms. Hitting around 120 coming up on the 90 degree bridge turn hit the brake on the rear end and the brake rod broke. Kinda misterous cause it is SS and want break unless it has sum help. So it was either hit the concrete or shoot down the dirt road. Laid the bike down and used my elbow as a rudder to sterar the bike not to hit the concrete. Shot down the dirt road to attempt to land in the creek. Pitched dark. Missed the creek by 15 feet. Me and the bike are in mid air and I kicked the bike as hard as I could cause I did not want to land on this monster. Worse thin in the world happened. I had a very expensive front in which was a Butts springer fron end 10 over with spring and spikes on the front by the risers. Kicked the bike hoping to hit the water, arm half torn off, bike hits the fround, missed the water. My back strateled the spike rocker bolts on the top of the front in. 56 feet straight down. Woke up, pitched dark, all I heared was water running and knew I was dead. Then I heard a couple other bikes. Transfered me back to the club hous, put me to be , 3 days later the wife is freaking out. I went to the bathroom and a member helped me and I was pissing blood. That's when they called the wife or else they never would.
6 months later still laid up in the bed. I have had a few but that was my worse.
God bless to every one that has gone thru one of these and here to speak of.

 

[Jimmy N.]

Far from the craziest, but despite all the times I've rolled in vehicles, crashed motorcycles, and all the "normal" stuff, for whatever reason this episode still stands out in my mind.

Going as fast as it'd go, of course, in my first car (an MGB convertible) I came over a crest followed by a small valley. Stopped at the bus stop at the bottom, on my side, was a cabover delivery truck with its door open.
No big...except there was an approaching vehicle coming down the hill and I could tell we'd meet right at the bottom.

Knowing damn well that there was no way I could slow down enough, or fully clear that open door, I did the only logical (to me) thing and kept it floored. The more the suspension would compress, the better, right?

Well, I remember getting a glimpse of the driver, probably reading a map, a nano second before the "impact".
Yes, there were sound effects, but that was it. My soft top was intact!

Okay, once I got to my destination I found out that it wasn't. There was a small triangular tear in it at the windshield header, and then at each top bow. Total height difference maybe two or three inches.
That means the lower rear edge of his door had folded out by about the same amount.

I just siliconed the rips in the top, but always wondered what the driver told his boss about what happened.

And then there was the time I fell asleep on my bike...on a curvy road. And some other funny ones. Nothing really crazy, though. as I can recall.

 

[Magnified]

(deleted) Started to post a summary of a lot of things, but thought better of it. Most of them had been posted elsewhere in greater detail.

No motorcycle crashes for me (harleys and turbo kawasaki), but will convey one very near accident. .

Long long ago, on the drag, I'm parked, listening to music, talking to some folks and girls. Friend drives up in his green ford LTD. Guy looks like Jesus (as most churches depict him). Smiling, waving, "get in." It's late, like 3 a.m., drag is dead. Get in car. Thad floors it out of the lot heading south on the highway, which was unlike him. As we're roaring into darkness I'm talking to him and I begin to realize he is completely wasted, I mean, virtually incoherent. I am concerned (understatement). I grab the seat belt and put it on. He's wanting to drive 350 miles to Dallas and I talk him out of it. Trying to talk him into stopping and letting me drive, but he's rolling like a freight train. He turns off on this winding, hilly road south of town and is tearing down it at 90+. At the end is the country club and I'm thinking I can get him to pull over there. He roars into the parking lot and rather than slowing as I was urging him, he starts doing donuts. Now, up to this point, I've only been trying to save my life. He's screaming his head off now and there is a huge I-beam portico for folks to pull through, with cement steps (and iron tube railings) leading up to the doors of the country club. I honestly do not remember who suggested it but he comes out of one of the figure eight donuts and is aimed almost straight into the portico pull through. He roars up into it and pulls hard right, but gets hung up on the concrete steps and the front of the car hits the corner of the building. At this point, the devil takes me. I say you can't get in there like that. back out, and come in straight at the steps, Thad. He throws it in reverse, backs out of the pull through and comes at the portico from head on, motor roaring, jumping the island (that LTD fit between the I beams with a few feet to spare) and jumps the curb and up the steps, smashing the railing aside and we make it to the top of the 4 steps and the right front corner of the car smashes in the glass and steel store front doors and shoves them back into the building. I clear as day remember the entire frame of the storefront moving back 5 or 6 inches with the impact.

Now, reality hits. Burglar alarm is going off. I tell him, we have to get out of here man, cops will be responding. As noted, country club is at the end of a long country road with no outlets or cross roads that lead anywhere. We are at the bottom of huge cul-de-sac. Car is still running, radiator, I suspect, is fine because the central railing was tube and we hit at an angle, shoving it up and through the glass as we dislodged the frame and the doors. Thad reverses like a mad man, straightened out and then roars out of the lot. I'm telling him easy man, easy. We are freaking flying now and he reaches over and turns the F-ing headlights off. It is pitch black; out in the country, no lights anywhere. The road is straight, but there are many ups and downs and a long descent to a quick rise. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be killed or seriously injured at this point. I am telling him in a calm voice, the police will be coming at us man, turning off the lights won't help. Turn them on so we can see to get away. Some how his brain processes this and, a miracle, he turns the lights back on. At this point I'm really surprised we haven't run into the law yet and we're coming up on the sweeping down hill curve where two roads (other than the main road) actually lead somewhere. I tell him "go straight," because if they're coming, I think, it'll be from town. He roars through the turn at full speed and then begins to reduce speed finally. I tell him there's no proof his car did it, chill out, we're almost clear. This is bullshit, his car is damaged in the front (and probably the suspension), but if he'll slow the hell down, it's worth it. Now Thad is like high on this euphoria of getting away and after maintaining this calm with a huge grin for about 5 minutes or so as I guide him back towards town and he begins to laugh and generally act bizarre.

We go through this little suburb type area with a lot of trailer houses and regular houses, he's speeding and I tell him, "slow down, if the cops are here they'll stop you just for that" and he looks over and laughs and yanks the wheel to the right. We curve into this drive way at about 30 to 35 at this point (thank god there were no cars there) and down the side of this mobile home and into the back yard (no fence or anything in the way). But the back yard is "fenced" on three sides by stacks of firewood at least 5 feet high. Thad yanks the wheel left and we're doing donuts in this guys back yard. I can see someone looking out the little high placed window in the bathroom, like the size of a box of crackers, as we're throwing dirt, spinning tires, roaring the engine and Thad is issuing maniacal laughter. We make probably 8 circuits and I'm telling him its time for us to leave, I'm sure the folks are calling the cops. So he makes the right, and back down the drive way but cuts through the bar ditch (missing the mail box) on to the road. He's sobering up a little now and I am shortly able to prevail upon him to take me back to my car and let me the hell out (we are coming into town from the southwest, and the country club is off to the southeast). I got in my car and went home at a sedate speed. Like a dumbass I let him drive off after telling him to go home and hide his car.

I told him later if he didn't stop drinking he was going to kill himself or others. He crashed weeks later but miraculously was not hurt, and hurt no one else, but was jailed. After that he quit drinking completely. DWI will kill. This story has parts that are funny, but it's also fucked up. You young guys, you don't want stories like this, it ain't cool or brave. Just stupid, dangerous, and only mere luck allowed us to live that night and more importantly not kill someone else.

 

[Stormtrooper1320]

(deleted) Started to post a summary of a lot of things, but thought better of it. Most of them had been posted elsewhere in greater detail.

No motorcycle crashes for me (harleys and turbo kawasaki), but will convey one very near accident. .

Long long ago, on the drag, I'm parked, listening to music, talking to some folks and girls. Friend drives up in his green ford LTD. Guy looks like Jesus (as most churches depict him). Smiling, waving, "get in." It's late, like 3 a.m., drag is dead. Get in car. Thad floors it out of the lot heading south on the highway, which was unlike him. As we're roaring into darkness I'm talking to him and I begin to realize he is completely wasted, I mean, virtually incoherent. I am concerned (understatement). I grab the seat belt and put it on. He's wanting to drive 350 miles to Dallas and I talk him out of it. Trying to talk him into stopping and letting me drive, but he's rolling like a freight train. He turns off on this winding, hilly road south of town and is tearing down it at 90+. At the end is the country club and I'm thinking I can get him to pull over there. He roars into the parking lot and rather than slowing as I was urging him, he starts doing donuts. Now, up to this point, I've only been trying to save my life. He's screaming his head off now and there is a huge I-beam portico for folks to pull through, with cement steps (and iron tube railings) leading up to the doors of the country club. I honestly do not remember who suggested it but he comes out of one of the figure eight donuts and is aimed almost straight into the portico pull through. He roars up into it and pulls hard right, but gets hung up on the concrete steps and the front of the car hits the corner of the building. At this point, the devil takes me. I say you can't get in there like that. back out, and come in straight at the steps, Thad. He throws it in reverse, backs out of the pull through and comes at the portico from head on, motor roaring, jumping the island (that LTD fit between the I beams with a few feet to spare) and jumps the curb and up the steps, smashing the railing aside and we make it to the top of the 4 steps and the right front corner of the car smashes in the glass and steel store front doors and shoves them back into the building. I clear as day remember the entire frame of the storefront moving back 5 or 6 inches with the impact.

Now, reality hits. Burglar alarm is going off. I tell him, we have to get out of here man, cops will be responding. As noted, country club is at the end of a long country road with no outlets or cross roads that lead anywhere. We are at the bottom of huge cul-de-sac. Car is still running, radiator, I suspect, is fine because the central railing was tube and we hit at an angle, shoving it up and through the glass as we dislodged the frame and the doors. Thad reverses like a mad man, straightened out and then roars out of the lot. I'm telling him easy man, easy. We are freaking flying now and he reaches over and turns the F-ing headlights off. It is pitch black; out in the country, no lights anywhere. The road is straight, but there are many ups and downs and a long descent to a quick rise. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be killed or seriously injured at this point. I am telling him in a calm voice, the police will be coming at us man, turning off the lights won't help. Turn them on so we can see to get away. Some how his brain processes this and, a miracle, he turns the lights back on. At this point I'm really surprised we haven't run into the law yet and we're coming up on the sweeping down hill curve where two roads (other than the main road) actually lead somewhere. I tell him "go straight," because if they're coming, I think, it'll be from town. He roars through the turn at full speed and then begins to reduce speed finally. I tell him there's no proof his car did it, chill out, we're almost clear. This is bullshit, his car is damaged in the front (and probably the suspension), but if he'll slow the hell down, it's worth it. Now Thad is like high on this euphoria of getting away and after maintaining this calm with a huge grin for about 5 minutes or so as I guide him back towards town and he begins to laugh and generally act bizarre.

We go through this little suburb type area with a lot of trailer houses and regular houses, he's speeding and I tell him, "slow down, if the cops are here they'll stop you just for that" and he looks over and laughs and yanks the wheel to the right. We curve into this drive way at about 30 to 35 at this point (thank god there were no cars there) and down the side of this mobile home and into the back yard (no fence or anything in the way). But the back yard is "fenced" on three sides by stacks of firewood at least 5 feet high. Thad yanks the wheel left and we're doing donuts in this guys back yard. I can see someone looking out the little high placed window in the bathroom, like the size of a box of crackers, as we're throwing dirt, spinning tires, roaring the engine and Thad is issuing maniacal laughter. We make probably 8 circuits and I'm telling him its time for us to leave, I'm sure the folks are calling the cops. So he makes the right, and back down the drive way but cuts through the bar ditch (missing the mail box) on to the road. He's sobering up a little now and I am shortly able to prevail upon him to take me back to my car and let me the hell out (we are coming into town from the southwest, and the country club is off to the southeast). I got in my car and went home at a sedate speed. Like a dumbass I let him drive off after telling him to go home and hide his car.

I told him later if he didn't stop drinking he was going to kill himself or others. He crashed weeks later but miraculously was not hurt, and hurt no one else, but was jailed. After that he quit drinking completely. DWI will kill. This story has parts that are funny, but it's also fucked up. You young guys, you don't want stories like this, it ain't cool or brave. Just stupid, dangerous, and only mere luck allowed us to live that night and more importantly not kill someone else.

The last part of the story.....100%. Lucky....pure and simple. Most of us have had some type of wild night in our younger days, and the next day really didn't understand how lucky we were, or necessarily remember all of the details.

 

[Bowtie Guy]

These guys were drinking at our Casino here in Windsor ON
Obviously had a few beers too many
Tried to do the Dukes of Hazard on the way home with an F150
Not bad
Almost cleared the 2 story building using the curb & garden as a ramp

 

[why2kmax]

2 Stories.

First one I was 16 or 17 and riding my motorcycle (82 920 Virago) from a relatives in MD back home, which was about a 190 mile trip with a friend on his harley. It was dusk and I was heading west about a mile away from home. I hit the last straight which rises up and then drops off over a blind hill and continues straight for another half mile or so (friends house is at the top of the hill). The Right side of the road after the hill is a steep rise with a lot of big trees. The left side is a 30-40 foot drop off into a flat area. I hit the top of that hill doing 70+mph and came over the other side and remember seeing 5 or more DEER in a line across the road blocking it. Couldnt go left or right (really had no time to think or react) so I went through them. Hit one 6 pt buck in the ribcage doing probably 60+ mph and went down. Everything was in slow motion, I remember seeing the deers head just to the right of my headlight lit up like a spotlight and then.. road, then sky and closed my eyes after that. My buddy was a bit behind me and when he went up his driveway at the top of that hill, he said sparks lit up the road like fireworks. He rode down to see WTF happened and saw me laying in the road covered in blood and thought I was dead. Fortunately I wasnt. Thankfully I was wearing hunting boots, a leather MC jacket gloves and a good helmet. I somehow got my legs off the ground for the most part knowing I had jeans on and slid about 50 yards or more down the wrong side of the road on my back, elbows and back of my helmet as those were all ground down to almost nothing. I guess riding a dirt bike for 4-5 years as a kid and falling a bunch there helped me get off and away from the bike, I dont know. I thank God every day that there were no cars coming the other way (and that I wasnt hurt).

I had a 4 or 5" tear in the knee of my jeans on my left leg and the pinky of one glove was torn open after it gave up. I was covered in blood and guts and other stuff (thankfully not my own). The ass end of the dear slid with me down the road, the front end of the deer went with the bike which was about 500 feet from me. Lucky I didnt fall with the head and get stabbed by the rack. No broken bones, my left knee was scraped as if I had fallen on a sidewalk, that's it. Seemingly no lasting issues, no hospital stay. The bike was something like $40 from being totaled but I fixed it and rode it another 2 years and traded it for something faster. To this day I never get on a bike for a ride without full gear head to toe. I dont care if its 100 deg out, I get all gooned up because while it may not ALWAYS make a difference, it did THAT DAY.

#2 Same guy I was with for #1. He was driving a 79 Z28 that he just got out of the body shop. He put traction bars on it and wanted to see how it handled. I went with him and we were going down a windy creek road that was freshly paved (and it had rained a few hours earlier). Baaad combo. He was doing the left/right thing with the steering wheel and ended up bouncing my head off the roof of the car. he thought it was funny so he tried to do it again only this time he lost control of the car and we ended up crashing into a road crane that they used to redo the road that was parked on the side. When I say crashed into it, I mean stuffed the car into and under the giant counterweight on the back of it. I dont think we were going more than 30 or so but the passenger half of the car went under the crane and ripped the roof open over my head. Fortunately right before we went under I ducked down as far as I could. Seatbelts were on, no one got hurt. Turns out there was a tallish cement storm drain right in front of the back of the crane that we hit FIRST that I guess slowed us down so we didnt stuff the entire car under the crane. I remember having to crawl across the car with barely any room and get out the drivers side window. Car was totaled. Crane barely was scratched and I was sore as shit for weeks.

#3 Oddly enough, Same guy in #1 and #2 accidently shot me once too but thats another story.

He likes to say "shut up or I'll shoot you again" when I give him shit. My response is always "you had your 3 chances"

 

[stonewall]

Back in the early 80's, leaving the club house around 2 am had to work on Monday. Club house was out in the country with about 1.5 miles of 2 ways straight road, good asphalt, then comes to a 45 degree bridge left turn. Concrete or a dirt gravel road for the train engineers used to work on the bridge. At 2 am feeling good got 15 minutes from home, got on the stretched out Harley and hit it hard. Well, back then choppers did not have front brakes cause of the chrome rocker arms. Hitting around 120 coming up on the 90 degree bridge turn hit the brake on the rear end and the brake rod broke. Kinda misterous cause it is SS and want break unless it has sum help. So it was either hit the concrete or shoot down the dirt road. Laid the bike down and used my elbow as a rudder to sterar the bike not to hit the concrete. Shot down the dirt road to attempt to land in the creek. Pitched dark. Missed the creek by 15 feet. Me and the bike are in mid air and I kicked the bike as hard as I could cause I did not want to land on this monster. Worse thin in the world happened. I had a very expensive front in which was a Butts springer fron end 10 over with spring and spikes on the front by the risers. Kicked the bike hoping to hit the water, arm half torn off, bike hits the fround, missed the water. My back strateled the spike rocker bolts on the top of the front in. 56 feet straight down. Woke up, pitched dark, all I heared was water running and knew I was dead. Then I heard a couple other bikes. Transfered me back to the club hous, put me to be , 3 days later the wife is freaking out. I went to the bathroom and a member helped me and I was pissing blood. That's when they called the wife or else they never would.
6 months later still laid up in the bed. I have had a few but that was my worse.
God bless to every one that has gone thru one of these and here to speak of.

Nothing more violent than a bike crash, Unless it would be a plane crash!