From: 85p8379@csdvax.csd.unsw.edu.au
Newsgroups: rec.motorcycles
Subject: How to drop your bike on a cop
Date: 8 Oct 92 15:01:17 +1000
Organization: University of New South Wales

A weekend story that must be reported.  Last Friday I went up to a beautiful
temperate rainforest in northern New South Wales, Australia.  Plan was to camp
for a few days next to the Allyn river, great spot.  Loaded up my Kwakka
GPX 250R, rode off with a friend on a monster Honda TransAlp.  I won't bore you
with the nice bits, the peace and quiet of the bush, the river, the periodic
tick and leech inspections, but I'd like to mention two events.  

The first cost nothing, and was more entertaining than damaging.  One night it
rained really heavily, and the forest road turned into a swampy mire.  When
returning to civilisation the following day, there was some serious stuff to
get through before the relative safety of sealed roads was reached.  Colyn, an
experienced rider on his TransAlp, had this amazing technique of extending both
legs for stability, and vrooming through whatever was in front of him,
frequently with plumes of mud shooting in all directions and lots of exciting
looking broadside sliding all over the place.  My little road bike couldn't do
that.  I had to pick a line very carefully, and hope that I could get through
without losing the plot.  Most of the time this approach was effective, and
when it wasn't, well...

There we were, in front of us lay a HUGE mud puddle.  Colyn raised his
scimitar, yelled "CHARGE !" and disappeared in front of a sheet of orange mud. 
He emerged muddy and jubilant some 35 seconds later.  With a sinking feeling
(premonition ?) I surveyed a potential line through the swamp.  There was a
little raised ridge about 4 inches wide going 97% of the distance through to
the intact dirt on the other side, and i figured if I could hold the line,
momentum would get me through.  I cautiously ventured out with the front wheel,
and no sooner had I got halfway through, with the back wheel tracking
admirably, *SLOSH*, I lost it and the bike went down on it's right side,
gurgling for a few seconds before the engine died.  Somehow i managed to jump
right over the mud pool before landing, so I escaped my bike's fate.  There was
my baby lying half-drowned in mud, I was not impressed.  Colyn walked over with
a grin and we heave-hoed the bike upright, and pulled her out onto the dry
road.  A hasty inspection for damage revealed that there was none, so happily I
tried to start the engine- no go.  Severely flooded, I surmised.  It started on
full throttle a few minutes later, burnt out the excess fuel, and seemed normal
again- relief all round (we were quite far from civilisation).  Moral:  If you
must drop your baby, do it in the mud.

The next story still makes me boil, though i'm trying my best to be Zen and
beam copious amounts of peace and love to the porkers involved.  On that
fateful rainy night, a possum decided to rearrange the tarp under which our
gear and food was stashed.  I can handle the fact that it ate all my parsely,
but shit, our helemts, both arai giga's, got VERY WET inside.  *YUK*.  So, they
were placed strategically in the sun the following morning, to dry out.  We
decided to go on a bush walk, which started about a kilometre down the road
from where we were camped, and we rode our bikes there to save some time.  We
went lidless, figuring it was the middle of a forest and that since we weren't
very likely to encounter any reasons to fall off and sustain head injuries at
20 km/h on a quiet dirt road, it was worth the risk (besides, our lids were
wet, as mentioned).  Anyway, we set off down the road, and what do you know,
hey bloody presto, 30 metres from our destination (beginning of the walking
track) there's a siren and a blue light and two burly cocks, er, sorry, cops
are pulling us over.  We tried the "sorry, officer, our helmets are wet and
it's the middle of the forest and we're really peaceful people going
bushwalking" routine, but to no avail.  The law is the law and if you ride with
no helmet you're breaking it.  So, we get fined nearly $100 each.  The dickweed
that gave me mine even read me my goddamn rights !  Colyn, who really hates
nazis, was about to blow his cool, but my higher self prevailed and unnecessary
death and destruction was averted.  I'm just pissed off because I feel that in
view of the circumstances those cops didn't have to book us, they were just
being arseholes.  Everywhere else in the state there are halfbrains driving
around drunk as newts endangering themselves and others, and here are the cops
busting two peaceful hippies in the bush for riding a few hundred metres
without helmets.  Yeah, long live the New South Wales Police !!

Back to work...

Barry Manor 85p8379@csdvax.csd.unsw.edu.au Sydney Australia DoD #621
Newsgroups: rec.motorcycles