Well, a combination of comedy, anger, stupidity and petrol fumes…
100% true story.
I arrived at the shell petrol station to fill up as usual, nothing wrong there.
I usually sit on the bike when filling up so I did. I also had the shoei flipped up so my face was visible. Been going there for years.
Took off the fuel cap (keyless ) and put it on the side, helmet flipped up, sat on bike and waiting for the attendant to start pump. So far, so good.
Tannoy comes on “please get off of the bike” so I did. Still waiting…
“please remove your helmet” comes through. It’s an f?ing flip up ffs!!!
So, i put the pump handle back and think “f it, i’ll go else where” so give her a 2 finger salute (yes, childish.)
I then get on the bike, then my left foot slips and down she goes…
I pick the bike up and rather sheepishly ride off.
I stop around the corner to asses the damage (as per pic) and get back on the bike.
2-3 miles later, I can smell fuel… Sod it, I forgot to put the tank cap back on so I have to go back to the garage and get the cap back…
Another red face moment when walking to the pump after i’d parked up…
I shouldn’t…. But
What sillies have you all done???
Come on, be honest!
I have others but i’d like to hear some one else’s so that I can feel better!?
Let’s spin this off to it’s own topic…
@ducatitotriumph thats going to take some beating to be fair! Leaving the cap behind just made it comedy gold
Laughing aside, thats a day worth forgetting about… fair play to you for sharing. I’d probably have kept quiet if it was me. At least the damage is very minor and you can see the funny side… good sport
I locked myself out of my motorbike…
Filling up the two stroke oil tank on my RD250 Yamaha.
Unlocked the seat with the key.
Took key out of the lock
Placed key on tool kit tray
Filled up the tank with oil.
Put cap on tank
Put cap on Oil bottle.
Shut down Seat.
Key still on tool tray below seat.
The world needs people like us to help them feel better!
I did something similar. I was in Bandol, southern France, with friends. We’d ridden over from England for the Bol d’Or. We were getting the bikes unlocked having just enjoyed a Mediterranean lunch. I rolled up my hefty chain and squeezed it into the under-seat tray of my Thunderace, then popped the seat back on with a satisfying ‘click’. Then, look around for keys. Search all pockets of leathers, hunt around on the floor for a bit, ask my friends if they had them…nothing. Sherlock Holmes once said, “when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth”, and so it was that I stared at my tightly locked seat. Uh-oh. You can’t prise those things off without incurring some serious damage. I was out of ideas. I was 800 miles from home.
Fortunately I had the sense to take a spare set and they were back at the hotel. My mate jumped on his Fireblade, retrieved them, and all was well. I have never left keys under my seat since, not even for a moment.
It’s good to know I’m not alone in that one then …!
Top tip to take the spare keys especially if alcohol may be involved at some stage on the journey …!
Not on the bike but at work. I was standing in for my boss as Lead Draughtsman while he was working abroad. Had about eight people working for me and changes to the job were coming thick and fast. I had piles of marked up drawings on my desk waiting to be updated, meetings galore and feeling the strain. Manager comes round shouting that our desks were a mess and MUST be tidied up. I said “I’ll tidy up!” picked up all the drawings, threw them in the bin and stormed out of the office to go home. Got to my cycle outside and realised my keys were in my desk drawer Sheepishly walked back in to collect them too many sniggers.
A similar story although it was a friend of mine but I witnessed the whole thing. He was having a bad day at work, boss went to see him about changing a job and turned into a fairly big argument. Mate stormed off with toolbox in hand a kicked the door open. 5mins later he phoned the boss… err, I’m sitting in my van, can you drive me home, I’ve broke my foot
We need a pic for this topic…
@ducatitotriumph I had to put this pic in your first post so it shows up on the front page as one of the featured topics. Can’t tag at post level. Hope you don’t mind. I’ll add a disclaimer that it’s not a pic from the actual event if you like.
I think everyone who has owned a bike, has dropped it at some point. And if it hasn’t happened to you it just means that it hasn’t happened yet
For me it happened quite a few years ago and just the once (so far!). I had filtered down a long line of stationary vehicles to a busy junction, and attempting to make a quick get away managed to stall it, drop it, and fall off. It was all very embarrassing really. Naturally I blamed the bike (as you do), but in reality it was simple user error.
We were going out on a run on the bikes in the morning so I thought i would give the bike a quick service and check over, 2 yr old T140v in 1980. Changed oil, checked chain tension, tyres ok and pressures to spec, brake pads all good, all lights working fine, plenty of fuel in the USA spec tank, all good.
I know, I will check the battery just to be sure. Unclip battery strap, undo terminals and remove battery, check battery fluid level, all good, over half way all cells. Replace battery and reconnect leads, drop seat down. I’m a happy bunny now, everything looks great for tomorrow, think I will start her up and give her a few revs just coz I can. First kick as always, nice, rev rev , mmm what’s that smell, something smoking, its coming from the airbox. Switch off quick, lift seat. Mmmm guess who forgot the battery strap, the battery terminals must have touched the seat base and shorted out. Anyone for a rewire, lol? Good job I had an old car harness I could butcher. In the words of Paul Sample in an old Ogri cartoon, " Danger, Ogri ( read Dave) at work" , a couple of hours later and all is well again, apart from strange colour wiring and a right knackered out Wally .
It almost would have been if you could smell petrol…
Not bike-related, and not my cock-up, but I was a delighted witness. Many years ago, when I was still in gainful employment as a planner, I was presenting a case at a public meeting. I can’t remember now whether it was a public local inquiry or a public committee hearing. Anyway, my adversary was the applicant’s planning consultant, a permanently aggressive little man. He delivered his usual tirade about the incompetence of my case, and then marched dramatically out of the meeting.
Two minutes later, he slunk sheepishly back in to retrieve his briefcase, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. Bowing ingratiatingly to the chairman, he turned to go, and then karma struck. The briefcase fell open and distributed his papers under the feet of the assembled public, whence he had to grovel to recover them… Indeed pride cometh before a fall.
I may have once been carrying my wallet and a letter to post in the nearest post box. I may also have walked away from the post box and got an awful sinking feeling as I realised that I was still holding the letter and the hand that had been holding my wallet was empty.
I had to walk back to the post box to see when the next collection would be made and return at that time to await the postman and explain my stupidity to him in order to be reunited with my wallet.
You monumental muppet
Another act of stupidity. I will preface this by saying that no one was in any way harmed and in my defence I had pointed out that the fire extinguisher was positioned in harm’s way on previous occasions.
When I was a student nurse many years ago I was on a ward that had a narrow corridor at the start of it that had the kitchen and side rooms coming off it before you entered the main part of the ward. The corridor was just wide enough to manoeuvre a bed or theatre trolley through and - at perfect theatre trolley height - attached to the wall outside the kitchen and opposite one of the side rooms was a large powder fire extinguisher.
On one hectic late shift I was rushing to collect my patient from the cardiac theatre recovery department and pushing the theatre trolley with a little more haste than sense. As I raced up the corridor I knocked the fire extinguisher with the corner of the trolley.
The first thing that happened was an enormous amount of dry powder started to fire from the extinguisher - ENORMOUS amount. At the same time the fire alarms went off, the fire doors to the ward, ward next door, all of the bays on both wards and the doors to the large corridor leading to both wards and theatres automatically shut and…the Fire Brigade were also automatically alerted.
With mounting horror I realised that the patient in the side room directly opposite the disaster zone was copping a huge amount of the powder and had their head out of the window to get some air rather than lungs full of powder. Luckily my mentor at the time came sprinting up the ward, his plastic apron flapping around, with a wheelchair to spirit said oxygen - dependent patient to safety away from the danger that her supposed care - giver had placed her in. Luckily she was a game old lady who thought it all rather fun and went chuckling back down the ward in a high - speed chair trip crying “My Hero!!!” to my mentor.
Meanwhile Manchester’s finest firefighters had arrived (in full breathing apparatus) to assess the situation. By now, things were calm as everyone trapped in their various bays, wards etc had been told that it was nothing to fear and the alarms had been silenced so I was just left with my excruciating shame and we were all left with a monumental clean - up, the powder had coated pretty much everything in it’s path.
Turns out even that disaster wasn’t enough to put that ward off me - I got a brilliant report for my placement and went back to work there as my first job after qualifying, before I joined the Army. That day though became something that was Never. Mentioned. Again.