Funny riding stories Lets hear em

I got kicked out of MTF in grade 7 when Colleen found my dope plants.

Did she find them in your locker?

Was riding Cahuilla in like 07 or 08 maybe. I’m going up an uphill and I hear someone doing this weird scream-laugh behind me like, “WOOHOOOOOOHAHAHAHA!” The guy absolutely flies by me and does a massive whip over the tiniest tabletop. Like I don’t even know how it’s possible to jump high enough on this to whip at all but he made it look like he was whipping over a supercross triple. It was MC on a CRF 450. He was just out having fun, riding laps. I’m still kind of confused at the laughing thing.  

Co-worker of mine is an adventure rider who does several multi-day rides each year where him and his riding buddies camp out and always toss back a few around the camp fire at night.....on a recent trip he brought some used transmission fluid that had that slightly burnt smell to it and poured a puddle under a fairly new rider's bike who wasn't very mechanically inclined and watched him try to figure out what was broke and where it was coming from. 

I pissed my pants to win a race once

Based

Fro?

Haha, did he do that too?

Roughly 18-19 years old, my buddy and I were riding in the trails in a fast section. Buddy was up front probably 50 feet ahead of me. Anyway he went by a goose nest, and then this momma or poppa goose jumps out in front of me with it's wings spread out wide and the only thing I could do was pull up and pin it. Anyway, I ended up killing that poor goose. Rest in peace momma or poppa goose.

Carlsbad, 1989. Locked in a dual to the death with some guy for something like 8th place 250 Nov. Up the freeway & at the apex is a lapper. I dive inside the lapper and run him wide to block combatant securing my place in history. At Carls there was this single bike wide path between two rows of metal fence that would give you tetanus just looking at it exiting the track. I hear a bike reving behind me & next thing Im on the ground.   

Guy I ran wide cleaned me out on the exit path and all I could do was laugh. I totally deserved it. 

I was in the Air Force and stationed in Germany from 1984 - 1986. I was in my late 20s. In 85 I drove down to Belgium for the 500GP at the famous Namur circuit. I drove down by myself on a Friday. It was about 4 hours from where I lived in central Germany. I got there right at dark. No google maps back then. I didn't know exactly where the track was but I knew I was close. I parked under a tree and went to sleep. Early in the morning I heard the sound of a bikes. I got up and got myself together and headed for the sound. To my surprise I was only about 1,000 yards from the track. I was walking up hills and all of a sudden there it was. I had a Pentax camera with a couple telephoto lenses with 6 rolls of 35mm film. To my surprise again I didn't have to pay anything. I just walked around the entire track and took photos. That track is the most amazing thing I have ever seen by the way. Then went into the pits and took some more. It was the best day of my life. I went back Saturday night and slept in my car again. Never had to move it and there was nobody around me.

Sunday morning I get up and head back to the track. Again, no ticket. I only had one roll of film left so I saved it. I walked up at the top to the Citadel, (the hills were so steep they had ropes tied between trees to help you get to the top) they had a vendor row. I was wearing an O'Neal red hoodie and white O'Neal hat. As I went down vendor row there was a O'Neal distributor there selling product. Since I was wearing O'Neal cloths he called me over. He was from France. He spoke english pretty well. I told him a little about me and we had a good talk. I went on and walked around the track. Since I didn't have but one roll of film left I tried to use it wisely but I ran out before the races were done. As the last moto finished I went back up to the Citadel for the trophy presentation. As I went past vendor row again, the French guy (can't remember his name) called me over again. He asked if I wanted to come up to the trophy presentation with him as he had a credential and could get close. He said I'll get you real close and you can take pictures. I told him that would be great but I was all out of film. He said well just pretend you still have some and take a few like you are a journalist. I said ok.

So on this day to make it even more special, Danny "Magoo" Chandler took third on his KTM. So it was Thorpe, Malherbe and Magoo on the podium. Roger DeCoster was there handing out the trophies. I pretended to take pictures and was able to get right up in front of the box. They sprayed me with champagne. It was amazing to get that opportunity. That weekend was the best weekend of my life. Boy do I wish I had a few shots left to show for it at the end. Oh well I have those memories. Thank you to that French guy whoever you are).

Namur was indeed an awesome place, especially for MXDN.  Had one chance to see the des Nations there in '01, the year we didn't send a team because of 9/11.  Regretted not seeing our guys show their stuff, but for sure still one of my all-time MX memories.  Great pics and great story you have.

I’m certain I’ve seen a clip of him saying “I should piss my pants before every race” after he won St. Louis ‘96. I’ve looked for it many times over the years.

Probably one of the best moto stories I've ever read. Nice one...

The first "real" dirt bike I bought was a used 1996ish KTM 250SX.  One of KTMs first iterations of a real MX bike.  I rode some practice days at Pepsi Air Dania MX near Ft Lauderdale Airport and did some trail riding.  My dad was racing FTR Hare Scrambles and I signed up for one in the beginner class.  I think it was called Sportsman.  I never raced against anyone and barely rode with anyone so I had no idea what kind of speed I had.  I went out and won my first race with ease.  I think I did about 4 races that year but at the last one in Ocala I lined up with no tear offs.  Since I was a punk teenager (18yrs old I think) one of the guys next to me on the line says, "Hey man, you have no tear offs."  To which I replied, when you're out front you don't need them and then I went out and won again.   I won each one I entered that year and despite it being a beginner class you would have thought I won Anaheim 1 with how cocky I was.  Man I was a tool bag.   

My racing career was short lived but I did come back in my 40s and I actually won the 40+ B class season championship and got my Championship jacket.  Raced the A class a couple years and managed to get some top 5s and even 1 or 2 podiums.  But A class is a whole other game.   For a guy that never practiced and only rode race days I was proud of those results but always shake my head at my 18yr old self.

around 1974-ish. Me and buddies growing up in San Diego and riding pretty much every day. So much construction everywhere but we could ride directly from our houses in suburbs to trails. 1 buddy with a few loose screws and less common sense got a brand-new Elsinore CR125M and we hit some new lots for housing subdivisions under construction to play around on and practice jumping. Immediately my Buddy just pins it heading straight towards the back of a lot just carved into a hillside. The rest of us just stop to watch as he goes up the face over the top and disappears like the earth swallows him up and never to be seen again. WTF? After a few minutes we decide to hike up and see where he is. Found him and the bike wedged inside 6' deep utilities trench just beyond the top edge of the lot crying for help. He lost all momentum getting up the hill and looked down and saw the trench and tried to correct in the air- but that oriented him 90 degrees and perfect for a wheels 1st drop into the trench. Never laughed so hard riding.

Back on 125s a friend of mine tried to hydroplane a farm pond. He did not successfully hydroplane said farm pond. His dad then had the pleasure of teaching us how to drain and pump the water out.

Thanks snapper. I appreciate the kind words. I think about that weekend often. So glad I got to experience Namur in it's heyday.

Racing at Lake Whitney, I was chasing a guy in the back section. There was a big right bowl corner, and instead of railing around the top, I went straight for some reason..  The berm had been railed so much, there was layers of poof sand all the way down the back side, which just kept going all the way down to a creek. I flew down the back side sideways and landed softly in the poof sand at the base, like landing in a pillow of clouds. Everything is bigger in memories, but seemed like at least a 20 feet drop.  Like dreams where all the sudden you over jumped something and are suddenly sky high, and time slows down waiting for impact before waking up.. Except I was awake, and perfectly fine!  Nobody saw this happen, and I couldn't ride my bike back out.  I could barely hike my way back up the berm, then flagged down a flagger in the next section, who came back and helped me get my bike out.  I didn't return to my pits until half way through the following moto, so my parents were tripping.. haha

1987 World Mini Grand Prix in Las Vegas. It was my first big race, first time to Vegas, first weekend racing without my dad. (I still can't believe he let me go! I was only 16 and went to Vegas with two friends who were also underage!) There was a "jetting area" in the pits that was a rectangle with two 180-degree berms at each end. You could get on the pipe and blast through some whoops and then shut it down. Well, 10 minutes before my race, I decided to make sure my bike was running right. I blasted down the straight, couldn't stop in time, and went over the berm. Just like in Fox88's story above, the back side of the berm was all silty, puffy dirt that had been roosted over the top. I was trying to stop, leaned all the way back, landed with the brakes on and did a massive endo right in front of my friend. He was laughing his ass off, but we both stopped laughing when I realized I had broken my brake lever! I had to haul over to the Suzuki truck and get a replacement. Just made it back to the gate in time to race.

kick starting a high compression 450 in the heat of the summer. my balls slipped out of my undies and when i sat down i sat on my own balls, yelled, stalled the bike and walked off.  

Mid 90's during an othg race at Carlsbad. They needed volunteers to run the gate, so me and my buddy Kirby signed up to help out and drop some gates between our moto's. After a few gate drops we realized that the guys who were getting the holeshots weren't looking at the gate, they were watching us. They'd line up as far back as they could, start slowly inching forward, and as soon as we'd move to drop the gate they'd dump the clutch and be going 2-3 mph across the line while everyone else was at a dead stop. We figured it was our duty to our fellow racers to fuck with them. So during the second round of motos, we'd wait for the card to go sideways, jerk our leg down like we were going to stomp on the lever, stop and wait a 1/2 second then drop the gate. We caught a few guys in the gate. Most of them knew we fucked with them and just backed up to let the gate drop and then shook their heads at us as they took off. But one dude was fucking livid, like as pissed as you can get. He was slobbering and screaming something unintelligible at us, veins popping out of his forehead, all red faced and shaking, like fucking psycho pissed. He took off wfo swapping all over the place like a madman. We were crying laughing. After that we left to go do our 2nd moto and never saw him or heard anything about it again. Which is probably good cause I swear that cat was ready to kill us. We laugh about it to this day, "It's an over the hill gang race for a six dollar trophy buddy maybe just watch the gate next time"...  😄      

One of my local racing buds from our local track, was the late Ben Coffman (great guy). Ben was astride the first silver tank YZ125. I was aboard my 74 Elsie. I didn't see him go down in the wet creek section, but he was up doing the kick start Kenny routine as we came through. He got it fired just before we got there, revs it up and dumps the clutch. I had no idea that those YZs were equipped with reverse. He shot backwards, straight back into the creek. I thought I was going to have to pull over I was laughing so hard. (seems the really early CDI ignitions could cause the motor to run backwards when they got wet). We still sit around the fire laughing about that memory 50 years later.

Was riding on a trail, a skunk ran out right in front of me, I looked back and it sprayed across the trail behind me. 

Giant horse runs onto the trail on a fast corner, lock up the brakes duh duh duh. Transmission broken. Limped home in second gear barely missed the horse. Waaaay out in the woods, was definitely a clydesdale thing was maaaasive.  

You are the baddest dusky. You should start a riding/horticulture school. “Growing buds & throwing scrubs”

An old tale...one time at a Southwick race, myself and 3 other friends from the same town decided to race, This was back in the mid 70's, none of us over 16. Full 40 man gate, probably 4/5 heats and we all end up in the same heat. Gate goes down and there is a big first turn pile up (regular occurance) which I was part of. I get up off the ground and grab my bike, look around and all 3 of my buddies were on the ground. Turns out, out of 40 guys us 4 ended up on the ground. Had a good laugh...not that day though.

Mammoth 1997.  OTMX race. The first part of the story is all hearsay because I don't remember any of it. Saturday last moto of the day. According to eyewitnesses I got together with a guy on the start (found out later it was my buddy) I went down hard and laid there for a second or 2. Got up and walked around in circles a couple times, found my bike, picked it up, started it and took off in last place. My family was camped out on the back straight and was concerned that I didn't come through with the pack, but a minute or so later I went by and was giving them the "OK" hand signal and thumbs up. Apparently I did that every lap for the rest of the race. I also managed to catch and pass 3 or 4 guys. After the checkers instead of heading back to the pits I started riding down the dirt road to Sherwin Creek campground (we were staying in a hotel)  My friend Kirby saw me and chased me down, he said he stopped me and asked me where I was going and I replied "I don't know, where am I ?" so I followed him back to the pits. Once there (according to those there) I started saying "Hey don't tell Sue but I think I ate shit, I don't remember the race"  "Yeah she's right behind you that's the fourteenth time you've told us that". The paramedics gave me oxygen and told Sue and my buddies to "keep an eye me"  I guess from there we went back to the hotel to relax and swim with the kids in the pool. From what I understand it became great fun to fuck with me, wife told me she was pregnant with twins, I won the race, etc. I kept asking where the kids floaties were, but they'd been swimming without them for months. They sent me back to the room to get more beer and then watched me walk around lost.... I love my friends and family I would expect nothing less .😄   I didn't race Sunday because I was still kind of dingy and my friends and family that were fucking with me the day before wouldn't let me. Fair enough. We'll just hang out and spectate for the day. Heres the part of the story I do remember. Sunday night we were going to celebrate the last night and go to the local steak house everyone was going to. I knew I had about 120 bucks left and figured I had the bill covered. When I opened my wallet I was surprised to only find 40 bucks in there. I was bummed and feeling like a dumbass that I'd lost 80 dollars somewhere. Back then that was a substantial chunk of change for us.  So my buddies made up the rest of our share of the bill and Monday morning we headed home. When I went to clean out the truck later I looked behind the seat and discovered where the 80 bucks went. It seems they had T-shirts that I must have liked because apparently Sunday I bought 4 of them....4 of the exact same shirts.  Yeah probably was a good call to not race Sunday 😆 

1989 at a local pro race. Very tight very twisty and SUPER bumpy. 

Guy was leading it and lap after lap I’m  trying every which way to pass him. I’m sticking a wheel in, panic revving in to turns to mess with him etc etc. 

So part of the track there was a whooped out straight which then rose up somewhat quickly about 4 foot before a very sharp right hander.

Just before this rise, I hit some huge ass  hole, the back end kicks up and I’m headed over the bars so I rev the piss out of it to bring the back down which it does - just before I hit this 4 foot rise. 

So I’ve just hit this rise pinned and barely hanging on. 

The guy ahead of me is just turning in to the right hander when I torpedo him in the head - either my bike, body or both did - all a bit of a blur at that point as you can imagine,  taking us both waaasy tf out . 

I’m laying on the ground with my bike wrapped around my head wondered what the hell just happened when the guy I just nearly accidentally killed who’s decided I did it on purpose to get passed him runs over and starts trying to kick the shit out of me.

Good times . 

 

So, I think this was 1983, I was riding 125 intermediate in a Texas cross country series. 

The week before a race, I crashed practicing and my bike caught on fire (another long story) and all I was able to replace was the wiring and hoses that burned, and the seat cover. It smoked a radiator shroud pretty badly, and the tank was blackened significantly on one side. It looked bad.

So, I show up on Saturday to practice, and I have 1 boot in my bag, still don't know why. I practice with my burnt CR with 1 Alpinestar boot, and 1 cowboy boot. Evidently people noticed.

One of my buddies who showed up Sunday to race beginner let me use his right boot to race, very tight, but better than a cowboy boot.

On the starting line the guy next to me ( race him every other weekend) said "You don't always wear a cowboy boot on your brake side, do you?" I said "only after a fire...."